Of Arms
by WIWJ
Summary: Jamie Lannister has no idea how to be the man he is supposed to be; while Brienne of Tarth has no idea how to become the woman she was never supposed to become. All my stories are rated M. I read the books, and I get confused. Spoilers. Fan theories. Smut eventually.
1. Chapter 1

The Three Eyed Crow knows that I need another 'in progress' story like I need my hand chopped off, but this one decided to write itself firmly inside my brain. Damn. Well, here it is my first Game of Thrones Story. Seven Hells.

...

The battle had ended without fan fair, and the sun had slowly started to rise.

He'd been separated from Pod and Brienne nearly immediately, as jobs had to be doled out and bodies had to be accounted for.

He'd been moved by Tyrion's joy upon seeing him among the living.

"I trust your lady survived the fight?" He asked softly pouring Jamie a drink.

"Of course she did." He snorted. "She's tougher than I."

Tyrion made note that his brother did not seem to argue the distinction that Brienne belonged to him as he grinned into his own ale.

It was a few hours later when he discovered Pod in the melee.

"Where is Ser Brienne?" He asked with a sigh, his eyes sweeping over the crowd.

"I would hope she's seeing the Maester, but I wouldn't hold my breath on that." Pod told him softly.

"What do you mean? Why would she need a maester?" Pod blinked at Jamie's sudden urgency.

"Oh, yes, I forgot we'd parted ways with you before she revealed the wound on her side." He began, but Ser Jamie had stopped listening and barged off towards the tower with quick steps.

…..

He rounded the corner to her chamber without knocking, pushing at the door and finding her there frozen in place and staring at him in an emerald colored robe.

"What's wrong?" She took in the look on his face, moving instinctively towards him.

"What's wrong? Pod said you'd been injured. Why didn't you say something to me?" He demanded, stepping closer.

"It's fine." She balked, moving slowly and painfully towards her bed.

"I'll be the judge of that." He huffed. "Let me see." She gave him an incredulous look, but he nudged her to the bed without acknowledging it. "Lie down."

She gingerly crawled onto the bed and laid on her good side as he undid the tie of the robe and peeled it back from her body. She made an attempt to cover herself and he met her eye.

"I've seen it you know." He lifted his chin in reference to her breast. "Up close and personal. I've nestled my face right up against it in fact."

"That was an emergency." She growled.

"So is this." His voice was low and breathless, and she glanced back to see him wince as his fingers traced the margins of the long gash up her side. It started at the curve of her bottom and wrapped up her side until it came to and end at the base of her sixth rib, just below the swell of her breast. If he noticed the way she trembled when his fingers landed there he didn't show it. "How did this even happen?"

"I have no idea." She sighed.

"You need to see the maester." He risked.

"No." She said evenly.

"Brienne!"

"There are far more injured far worse." She reminded him. "I'll be fine."

He was already rolling up his sleeves and untying his gold hand, he set it behind him on the table.

"At least let me clean it properly." He sighed, moving back towards the water basin when she offered no protest. She'd left some salve beside the basin and he gathered that as well, before huffing at the task before him. "A little help?"

He lifted the jar of ointment tucked into his elbow towards her with a smirk. She rewarded him with a ghost of a smile, removing the lid and dropping it onto the bed. He squeezed the cloth out over the injury, watching the rivers of water mix with the dried blood and bits of tissue there. Again he winced as she seized up with pain, absently running the flat underside of his right forearm against her cheek gently. She let her eyes drift shut as he went about cleaning the wound and applying the medication.

Jamie found himself watching his fingers move across her pale curves with interest. Her body was so different from what he was used to, so curvy and delicate. Such a contrast to how she was viewed. Such a contrast to Cersei, who was more angular and taunt. The dips in his sister's body were not as drastic as Brienne's peaks and valleys. They were not as smooth. Jamie found himself wishing for his fingers again, so he could stroke her short locks of matted hair from her face as he worked. It was almost odd how little those feelings surprised him. He patted the area dry and began laying fresh cloth over it.

"I figured I'd die." Brienne's voice was barely a whisper.

"We all figured we'd die." He reminded her.

"Yes." She agreed. "But I figured I would especially."

"Why would you say that?" He asked his distressed tone making her forehead furrow.

"I've done all I've set out to do." She confessed. He glanced at her heavy eyelids. "Accomplished all my goals. Kept my vows. I figured it was time."

"You have more to do." He told her.

"Do I?" She breathed. Jamie took note of how red her cheeks seemed to be, laying his forearm against her neck and swallowing hard at the warmth radiating from it. He touched his stump to her head and found it just as bad. He looked towards the door to see Podrick appear. He stepped towards him.

"Get a maester.'' He raised a serious eyebrow and the young man hurried off. Jamie walked around the bed to the other side, and lowered himself down to face her.

"You do." He told her evenly. "I need you."

"You need me?" Her lips barely moved as she spoke but her eyes still rolled slightly at him as they turned up at the edges.

"Yes." He swallowed hard. "We'll move on Kings Landing. It's the next step." Her eyes opened wider into his and she seemed suddenly alert. "I'll need you by my side to remind me that I'm more than Cersei's lap dog."

"Stop." She winced at him like his words were painful.

"Brienne without you I will fall right back into the shell of who I used to be." He looked for a moment that he might cry. "With you, I am good."

Her lips parted as if she had something to say, but she pressed them shut again, with a shake of her head.

"With you I am honorable, and I keep my word. With you, I understand right from wrong and.. " He snorted. "And I actually choose right."

Her lips twitched into a smile.

"With her I am nothing but the kingslayer, oath breaker, man with no honor." The sorrow dripped from him. "I'm powerless against her. Unless I am with you, I don't know who I am separate from her."

"You're Jamie." She breathed, her eyes clouding. "Your name is Jamie."

He smiled at her and she tried to smile back, but exhaustion won out and her face went slack as her eyes fluttered shut. He clasped her hand in his, pulling it to his lips and pressing them against it.

"I still need you." He told her, his voice weak and fearful.

…..


	2. Chapter 2

Tyrion stood in the doorway of Ser Brienne's chamber, studying his brother. Jamie was tipped back in his chair; eyes closed, his hand laying across his brow, picking at a scab on the bridge of his nose. He was talking to her as if she was listening, his stump swinging through the air for emphasis, his gold hand abandoned on the table.

"You're really missing out on some excellent moral dilemmas." He told the unconscious woman. "At first the air was so thick with the smell of rotting human flesh it was a burden to breathe at all, but then after the dragons charred everything to bits it smelled so succulent you felt your mouth betrayed your humanity when it watered."

Tyrion chuckled, and Jamie's eyes slipped over to his brother.

"They send you after me?" The older Lannister guessed.

"They've sent me to appeal to you to bathe." His younger brother snorted. "How is she?"

"It's been three days." Jamie sighed, his eyes sweeping over the woman in the bed. "She's barely moved."

"The Maester is still optimistic she'll make a full recovery." The Imp reminded him, leaning against the doorway.

"The Maester didn't hear her telling me that she'd expected to die." He whispered, leaning forward, his lame arm laying next to her on the mattress. Tyrion let the silence sweep across them, giving his brother a moment to collect himself. "How's your queen?"

"My queen." His brother heaved a heavy breath. "It seems that the line of succession may have skipped over someone." Jamie's eyebrows arched into his hairline. "Apparently Ned Stark's bastard is really another Aegon Targaryen. Son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen."

Jamie's body burned thick with the news. He leaned forward, his mouth slipping open.

"Rhaegar's son." His voice was rough and gravely.

"Yes." His brother gave him a grave look. "True born."

"An heir lived?" Something light shook free in Jamie's chest and floated up his throat. "A son lived?"

"Apparently so."

"It changes everything." Jamie looked out the thin window at the darkness. "As mad as his father was, Rhaegar was quiet and withdrawn, but kind and just." He snorted. "Much like his son." He paused, his mouth agape as he thought of what it meant. "And how has the Mother of Dragons taken the news?" Jamie blinked back at his sibling.

"Well.. she's yet to burn her lover at the steak." He replied, giving a serious look.

"She still might." Jamie warned him in hushed tones.

"I have seen honor and goodness in her." Tyrion reminded him. "I still feel I can temper her wrath."

"Tell that to Samewell Tarley." Jamie pointed out, leaning forward slightly. "Last I checked they were our vassel."

"The House Lannister's allegiance seems to be in question these days doesn't it?" Tyrion sighed, slumping into a nearby chair.

"House Lannister." He sniffed. "House Lannister is you and I."

"And our dear sister? Although she's loyal to no one, you've always remained loyal to her."

"Fuck Loyalty." He mumbled, his eyes sliding to the other occupant of the room. Tyrion's eyes widened, but he didn't disagree. Jamie watched him regard Brienne with a quiet reverence.

"She's been good for you." He observed.

"She's saved me." Tyrion wasn't sure Jamie even knew he'd spoken out loud.

"Your Lady serves House Stark. I suppose our allegiance should fall in alliance with theirs. Seeing as you are the elder brother and Lady Sansa _was_ my wife."

"Rhaegar hoped I would protect his children." Jamie remembered. "I asked him to take me with him, but he felt needed me in King's Landing to assure that Father would not turn on Ayres, but he still wished for me to protect his children." He looked at Tyrion. "I'd like to do that now."

"Then I guess House Lannister bends the knee to the Dragon King once again." The half man sighed with a nod. "Let's hope his beloved aunt doesn't roast us all alive."

…..

"Anything?" Sansa looked up at her sister as she returned to the room. Arya shook her head. "What if she kills him?"

"She won't." Bran's cryptic tone made Sansa's stomach turn. She hated it.

"How can you be so sure? Can you see the future now too?" She glared at him.

"Stop." Arya folded her hands behind her back. "There will be time for sibling rivalry later. This is about Jon."

"Aegon." Sansa murmured.

"He's still the same man." Her sister whispered kindly. "The same amount of Stark as he has always been. As much Father's son as he has always been. As much our brother as he has _always_ been."

"He was reluctant to be King of the North, and now.." She turned back to Bran. "You're certain she won't kill him?"

He didn't speak and she turned her attention to the other occupant of the room. Sam Tarly took a deep breath.

"Jon's never been one to choose to lead." Samwell told her evenly. "I would assume he'd do little to threaten her, until the people demand it."

"They will." Came a voice from the doorway. The eyes in the room fell upon Tyrion Lannister's diminutive form. "M' Lady." He whispered to Sansa. "I wish to join your council."

"What makes you think you can be trusted to join our council?" Arya stepped in front of her sister, but Sansa's hand on her arm halted her advance.

"I trust him." She said softly, turning towards her brother. Her sister's gaze followed and the two regarded him with interest.

"As do I." The three eyed crow replied.

"The people will demand it." Tyrion repeated. "The Dothraki are gone. The UnSullied in ruin. What is left now is wildings and northerners, and they will all bend the knee to to Jon Snow."

"And you Lord Tyrion? Hand of the Queen?" Sansa asked evenly.

"I've spoken to my brother." He nodded. "He is in love with your Swordswoman, weather he knows it yet or not is debatable, but he is. And seeing as you and I were pledged in marriage it seems only right that House Lannister, or what's left of it anyway, will pledge it's allegiance to the Dragon Wolf."

Sansa's lips curled briefly at the designation, she couldn't help but like the sound.

"You'll abandon your queen?" Arya raised an eyebrow. "Again?"

"I bent the knee to Dany because I believed she was the true heir. He is the true heir." Tyrion glanced around the room before returning his gaze to Sansa. "Apparently my loyalties suddenly are no longer as divided as it seemed."

…

"It's funny how quickly things can change." Jamie mused, adjusting the blankets around Brienne. "You'd have thought I'd learned that by now." He glanced at his stump before smirking at her. "How quickly your destiny can lurch in a direction you'd never imagine. How what you thought you knew was suddenly untrue."

He sat on the bed beside her with a dramatic sigh, his head lulling back and examining the ceiling of the chamber.

"I'll be someone worthy of your loyalty if it kills me. If you'd just wake up." He murmured, before taking a deep breath and blowing it out roughly. "Have I ever told you about my grandfather's lions? Literal lions, He kept them in cages-."

"Mmm.." The soft sound was like nothing he'd heard from her before and it startled him. "Jamie?"

He slid from the bed, lowering himself into the chair and bending to her eye level.

"I'm still here."

"Shut up." She breathed, opening her eyes in time to see the confused look on his face before her's broke into a grin. He pushed out a chuckle before another huff of relief followed as his forehead dropped to hers. She closed her eyes and hummed as his hand came up and brushed her damp locks from her face.

"As you wish M'Lady." He whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

"Seems my brother's annulment is being annulled." Jamie breezed into her bedchamber as if it was his own. He pushed the arms of his tunic up and started tugging at the strings of his hand.

"What?" Brienne's eyes widened and he gave her a haphazard grin before returning to the strings. "That's the last thing I think I would have ever expected you to say."

"I know." He shook his head slowly, before sitting on the edge of the mattress next to her and extending his arm. She pulled the strings apart with ease before peeling the leather from his skin.

"You're filthy." She scrunched her nose up at him.

"I'm so sorry M'Lady, I've been rebuilding a castle from the ground up while you've been lounging about." He teased, adjusting the pillows behind her.

"Don't make me feel worse than I do!" She moaned.

"You look good." She tilted her head to the left, giving him that look, but he could see the blush rise up her throat. "How do you feel?"

"Guilty." She huffed. "I'm going insane, just sitting here while everyone is working."

"The maester says a few more days." He told her softly, adjusting the slipping strap of her nightclothes.

"The maester doesn't know who he's dealing with." She huffed.

"No, he does not." Jamie smirked, his voice low as watched the blush spread again. She was unbinding his stump, her gaze examining the pressure wounds there. She still looked tired, and her eyes were far to sunken and dull for him to believe that she felt well enough to be out working.

"You shouldn't be wearing it yet." She chastised, turning his appendage slowly, looking at the broken down skin, pressing her fingers lightly against the swelling.

"I'm not going out there without it." He snorted indigently, she made a face like he was being an idiot, but her eyes never left his arm. "I'd sooner not wear pants."

"Well if it gets infected, they'll have to keep whittling away until you have a whole arm of gold. Bring me a cloth." She ordered.

"Yes Sir." He rose grasping at the golden monstrosity and flinging it onto the table, before wetting a cloth and returning to his spot on the bed. Brienne went about cleaning the worn patches with careful precision. Jamie swallowed the hiss that rose in his throat, his nursemaid politely pretended not to notice.

"Tell me more about Sansa and your brother." She told him quietly.

"Not much to tell. I haven't even had a chance to talk to Tyrion, but word on the west tower repair crew is that they had a moment in the Crypt and they've asked the Queen to annul the annulment." His stump jerked when she it a particularly raw area and she yanked it back to her lap.

"Hold still." She scolded roughly, but Jamie watched the way the pads of her fingers stroked the perimeter of the wound softly. "Don't you think it's strange though? Lady Sansa and your brother?"

"One would think they're an odd match, but Tyrion is witty and smart. She likes that." He thought back to what Sansa had been through, swallowing hard. "She needs kindness. He can be kind."

"Lots of people can be can be kind." She reminded him absently, her fingertips still examining the skin of his arm. "You can be kind." He closed his hand over hers and she raised her eyes to his.

"Trying to get rid of me?" He gave her a lopsided smirk. She swallowed, her face pinching and her lips pressing together tightly. "What?"

"Why _are_ you still here?" She whispered.

"You're going to have to be more specific." Jamie chuckled dryly.

"Jamie.."

"Why am I still alive? Why am I still in Winterfell? Or why am I still.." He lifted his hand off of hers for a second before returning it. "Here?"

"All of it maybe?"

"You know why." His voice was soft but he pulled his arms from hers anyway, returning the washcloth to the basin. He dropped into the chair he'd occupied for days waiting for her to wake up, struggling with the laces on his shoes. She watched him push them off and under the bed before returning to the basin to wash his face and hand before starting to wind fresh cloth around his stump. She remained silent as he undid the buttons of his tunic and pulled it over his head, running a new cloth across his chest and under his arms. She watched him dig through his satchel on the floor until he came up with a fresh garment and fought his way into it.

He swallowed hard, moving around the room as if it were his own, putting things away and and making piles of laundry to be dealt with. He picked at a piece of bread she'd left on a tray at the bedside table and took a bite, the whole time his eyes falling on everything but her. Her eyes never left him.

Jamie Lannister took a deep breath and let it rush out of him before sheepishly meeting her eyes.

"You do know why, don't you?" His raspy voice would have gone unheard in any other room, but this one was achingly silent. Brienne blinked at him, her expression unchanging until a loud knock at the door startled them both.

"Ser Brienne?" Jamie's eyes rolled back as his head bobbed to the ceiling before he clumsily reached for his hand, struggling to slip it on. She gave him an admonishing look, he sneered back at her..

"One second please, Tormund." She called, watching Jamie wince as he pulled the damn thing into place, not bothering to lace it. He glanced at her quickly, gesturing at the neckline of her bedclothes and she yanked it up accordingly before arranging the blankets as modestly as possible. Jamie rolled his eyes again before swinging the door open and greeting their guest.

"Ser Jamie." He growled as the Lannister put on his best game face.

"Tormund. How nice of you to stop by." He said evenly, gesturing him into the room and pointing at the table. "Please, have a seat."

Brienne gave her new guest a brief fleeting smile before moving her legs aside, pointedly making room for Jamie on the end of the bed. He dropped there, his right arm landing beside her, stretching unnaturally long as the unbound prosthetic slipped down his arm.

"The Kingkiller told me that you were feeling better." He growled. "You look like you feel good."

He raised an eyebrow and leered at her. Jamie made a face, moving his body closer to the edge of the bed. Brienne noticed his hand didn't move with the rest of him. She ran her teeth over her lower lips.

"Yes, Tormund." She nodded. "I've nearly healed."

The wildling was unabashedly staring at her unbinded breasts at it was all she could do to keep from pulling the warm fur pelt blanket up to her chin. Tormund's advances didn't usually bother her per se, but she didn't relish hosting anyone while she lay helpless and unarmored in her sick bed.

Except for Jamie. Jamie brought her stories of the day and kept her sane with tales about Casterly Rock. Jamie had spent an hour 'instructing' poor Poddrick how best to replace the leather ties on her armor that had given way in the fight for the living, allowing the injury to occur in the first place. It was Jamie who peppered the maester with questions about the infection in her blood, the depth of each end of the wound; and how to avoid scar tissue that would hinder her movement in battle. It was Jamie who had taken to stroking her hair when she woke up with a start in the dark, still feeling the hands of the undead clawing at her. Jamie had moved into her bedchamber while she lay unconscious and never left, and she found she didn't mind that one bit.

He was currently distracting Tormund with questions. He had also seemed to notice where the Wildling was looking, and instead had him focused now on the craftsmanship of the room. He was pointing at different buttresses and stonework and wondering out loud where they would find the smiths to repair the part of the castle they were assigned to repair it to its former glory.

Jamie was asking him about preferred building materials of the wildlings. Jamie had pivoted so he was nearly a wall himself between Tormund and her bosom.

His heavy gold hand had not, she noticed. It wouldn't follow him when he rose.

"I'm afraid we're boring my commander." Jamie was telling Tormund, the large man glanced at her and she gave him a polite but sleepy smile.

"Join me in the mead hall Kingkiller, we'll finish our discussion." The Wildling looked at him expectantly. She felt him hesitate beside her before giving a quick nod and start to slide to his feet. She grabbed at his arm and held him back.

"Actually Tormund I need to speak with Ser Jamie for a moment. We were in the middle of something." Brienne slid her fingers between the sheath of his hand and his stump and his back straightened. He looked at his hand and then back over his shoulder at her. She was closer than he expected and he stifled a gasp.

Tormund the Wildling was the first one to move.

"Yes. I see that." He sounded more than slightly disappointed. "I should have known as much."

After he'd stomped his way out of the chamber, Brienne dropped her chin, her hands rolling up his tunic sleeve and rolling the arm the rest of the way down and lifted his arm out.

"Thanks for the cover." He whispered, she could feel his breath on her cheek. She lifted her face back up to his and gave him a small smile.

"We were in the middle of something." She reminded him, casting her gaze back downward.

"In answer to your question M'Lady. I have found as of late that is the only place I want to be." He swallowed hard, but she remained still. "I came to Winterfell because I needed to fight beside you. I lived through that fight _because_ I fought beside you; and when you were fighting for your life I wanted to fight beside you."

"The fighting is over now." She reminded him softly.

"Yet here I remain." He breathed, as tears pooled in her eyes. "Do you want me to go?"

Brienne curled her fingers tighter around his limb, her eyes never leaving his as she shook her head.

His left hand fluttered to her jaw and he flicked his eyes from hers to her lips and back again.

"I've never kissed another knight before." He whispered cheekily.

"Not even the sword of the morning?" She asked him, the edges of her mouth twitching upward before she moved her head until their lips were nearly touching.

Jamie Lannister kissed her then, impossibly gently, and Brienne of Tarth let him.


	4. Chapter 4

"Well there you are." Tyrion snorted. "I thought maybe you'd left town."

"I hear your marriage has been consummated." Jamie said with distracted interest.

"Not quite yet." Tyrion sighed wistfully. "I'm afraid there hasn't been the time."

"Well I have no idea who you are or what you've done with Tyrion Lannister, but my little brother always made time for that." Jamie raised his eyebrows and the younger man gave him a deadly look over his cup before pouring him one of his own.

"How's your Lady Knight?"

"She's better." Jamie took a long drink, before tapping on the table.

"Out with it." Tyrion sighed.

"With what?" Jamie pushed the cup back and rubbed his hand against his thigh.

"Whatever you need from me." He waved his arm at him. "You wouldn't be here during your precious rest period if it wasn't important."

"You're my brother, maybe I just want to check in with you? Congratulate you on the resurrection of your marriage, confirm that the Dragon Queen hasn't found out your treason and fried you?"

"None of that would get you away from your Lady Love." Tyrion pointed at him.

"About that." He took a breath.

"Yes? I'm waiting?"

"I need to send a Raven." He whispered softly. "I don't know how one goes about doing that at Winterfell."

"Why?" Tyrion's voice was low and almost murderous.

"And I can't very well walk around asking people." He japped, gesturing at his brother. "Because they will all look at me like that. Assuming the worst."

"You'll have to forgive them. They've heard of you."

"Which is why I came to you, I was fairly certain you wouldn't put your little dragonglass dagger in my eye in the first mention of it." He sighed. "I need to send a Raven, to Tarth."

"Tarth." Tyrion slowly lowered the cup of Ale to the table and looked at his older brother. "As in Brienne of?"

"As in Lord Selwyn of." He swallowed before taking a quick breath. "I'm asking for his daughers hand."

"I don't think it will fit your stump." His brother didn't miss a beat.

"Can you be helpful?" Jamie winced, rubbing his face.

"You're not serious?" Tyrion's shoulders dropped back against the chair. Jamie stared at him."You're serious?"

"You are the one who has been not so subtly rousing me about my apparent feelings for her and now that I've decided to act on-."

"You've acted on them?!" Tyrion yelled. Jamie covered his face with his hands, before his younger brother leaned in quietly whispered. "You've slept with someone other than our sister?"

"No." Jamie scoffed. "She's the maiden of a noble house. The only surviving child of the Lord of Evenfall Hall. Of course I have not slept with her. That is why I need to send the raven."

He punctuated each word of his last sentence with slow steccato, until Tyrion's eye brows rose again into his hairline.

"Ah." He nodded.

"Yes. Ah." He countered.

"And if Cersei were to intercept it?" Tyrion blinked at him.

"I've thought of that." He sighed. "I'm sure she's got a dozen sellswords after my head by now anyway."

"Good thing your bride is well versed with a sword." The imp snorted. Jamie glared at him, which only caused him to snort louder before busting into a fit of laughter. His brother followed soon after, despite himself.

"You'll help me?"

"I'll more than help you. I'll send word to our friends in Essos. They can have someone in Tarth in a few days time." He sighed heavily. "You know it's rumored fallen to the Golden."

"She's heard, she feels that her father would yield without incident. He served Robert and he's served Cersei he has no reason to make an enemy of her now." He whispered gravely.

"And marrying his only daughter off to her banished lover? That would help him in his standing?"

"He's raised her to be strong and independent. To make her own choices."

"And she's chosen you?" His brother's voice was high and teasing. Jamie looked down at the table with a self conscious grin. "I'll send someone we trust."

…

"I don't know why you are so nervous. You know I'll marry you, no matter what his answer is." Brienne said softly, knotting her hands in his tunic as the maester kneaded the scarring tissue around the gash in her side. "This is just a show of respect."

He put his hand on her head and rubbed his thumb over her temple as she winced against the other man's touch.

"Still.." Jamie sighed. He lifted his right arm, only to set it down again when he saw his stupid gold rock at the end of it. If the Maester wasn't here, he wouldn't have the damn thing on and he could have run his stump along the bottom edge of the scar and felt the skin there. He didn't like the way it puckered slightly around the curve of her hip. He worried it would keep her from being able to lunge as deep as she had before. "What about there?" He nodded his head and the Maester pressed his thumb into the spot, testing it's elasticity. The woman on the bed hissed, her other hand locking around his wrist. "Shhh…" He soothed. "Take slow breaths."

"You take slow breaths." She growled at him through clenched teeth. "Shit that hurts."

"You'll thank me later when you still have full range of motion." He raised an eyebrow at her. She made a face, but slowed her breathing just the same.

"I think you're capable of some light work." The Maester said. "No heavy lifting, but some walking, mild activity.." The old man looked from Jamie to Brienne and back again. "Relations.."

Jamie's head snapped up in surprise, the old man raised an eyebrow at him. "Nothing too strenuous yet. Keep an eye on her, make sure she's not overdoing it."

"I-." Jamie's mouth hung open.

"Slow deliberate stretching is the best treatment." The man pulled her bed clothes down and the blanket up before nodding to them both. He looked down at her face, her wide sapphire blue eyes bore into his, the flush had crept from her chest to her cheeks now.

She swallowed at the chuckle that escaped his throat. He dropped into the chair beside the bed with a thump.

"I'm pretty sure he meant the scar tissue." Jamie assured her, leaning in and pressing his mouth to hers.

"I'm pretty sure he didn't." She scoffed. "Is it ugly?"

"What?" He blinked at her, trying to decide on what she was asking.

"The scar. You always look so concerned when you look at it."

"It's.. long." He exhaled. "You need to be able to twist and still extend your arm. It's just a thick line in most places." She nodded at him, her eyes fluttering past him and looking at the wall. "Since when are you concerned about things like that?"

"Since someones looking." She countered. "I don't like the way you wince when you look at it."

Jamie understood that. He remembered the way Cersei had looked at him when he'd returned. The way she'd sneered at his handless arm.

How he'd wanted her to touch it tenderly, to mourn the loss with him. He glanced at the woman in front of him his lips twitching into a sad smile. _The way Brienne did_.

Tyrion had called her a worthy sparring partner for him, and he could see more meaning now in those words. She was the right amount of tough love and quiet devotion. She was the carrot and the stick. He ran his hand across her face again before carefully pulling the blanket down and her dressing gown up. Jamie spread his fingers wide and ran his hand carefully up her side.

"It's like a crack in perfect marble." He told her softly.

"Perfect marble." She scoffed.

"You really are quite exquisite." He raised an eyebrow towards her but never removed his gaze from her skin. "So pale and soft. How can you be so strong and still so impossibly soft?"

"Jamie." She whispered his name painfully and he slipped his eyes back to her.

"You don't believe me." He swallowed. "It's alright." He lowered his lips to her ribs and pressed a kiss there. "I intend to spend the rest of my life showing you." She curled her arm back down to him, encircling it cautiously around his shoulders, holding him there against her chest.

"Then perhaps we shouldn't wait for a raven." She told him tentatively, her tongue darting out and wetting her bottom lip. "Seeing as I may need a lot of convincing and Cersei probably has a bounty on your head."

He sniffed a laugh, carefully pressing his lips to the underside of her breast before lifting his head up to look at her. She kept her wide eyes on his.

"You're serious?" She didn't recognize his tone.

"I hear it's the best treatment." She raised an eyebrow, gliding her hand over his face.

"I want to marry you." He breathed. "You're not some conquest I take lightly. I know I've made crude jokes before but-."

"Jamie." She silenced him, pressing her thumb to his lips. "We're at war. We are warriors. If we live to see another turn of the seasons it will be a miracle."

"The fact that we're alive right now is a miracle. We fought the army of the dead." He sighed.

"Cersei seems the far greater threat to you." Brienne pressed her lips together.

"She won't bend the knee." He pushed his torso up from the mattress before rising from the chair. She watched as he untied his arm before working his way out of his shirt. Brienne pulled back the blankets, holding them up until he'd settled beside her. She folded her arm over his limb, securing it to her body as he stroked her hair. "She'll die first."

"The baby." She breathed. "We have to at least try for the sake of the baby." He looked at her like he might cry, moving the slightest bit closer to her, his face drawn up in silent question. "It's your child, you've already lost more than is fair. If I'm going to be your wife I'll have to contend with any bastards now won't I?"

"This will be the only one. I swear to you." He slid his finger across her eyebrow. "I swear it."

"Don't swear things like that." She swallowed. "It's unnecessary."

"I'll make it a vow to you and I'll honor it." He raised an eyebrow. "If you don't believe me now, you will someday." He pressed his forehead against hers.

"If you make it to someday." She teased, her fingers molding themselves around the ball of his shoulder. "I hear the Lannisters can afford the best sellswords."

"Good thing my betrothed is the best swordswoman in the seven kingdoms." He nuzzled her nose with his own and she blushed.

"Who says I'll protect you?" She mumbled, he could feel her breath on his lips.

"You always have." He smiled.

"I guess I have." She swallowed hard before pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"You're making it very hard to be honorable." He sighed, knowing she could feel against her hip just how hard. He could feel her hand moving towards his groin and he lifted his right arm up just a little. "Let me do this one thing right." He swallowed his eyes pressing into hers. "I need to prove to you that I mean this. That I'll honor you, as my wife."

"Let's get married." She said softly. "Here. Tomorrow."

"Brienne-."

"And then if we live." She swallowed. "We can do it again. On the Sapphire Island, in front of the old gods and the new. I'll let my father take me down the aisle and I will look like the Mountain in some horrid dress of lace and silk and I will pledge myself to you in front of anyone who is still alive."

"You'll look like a goddess." He swallowed. "A we'll have blonde goddess warrior children that ironically would have made my terrible father incredibly happy. You'll teach them how to fight and I'll teach them how to survive. And they'll have dwarfed cousins from the North that will come up to their knees; that will ride South in the summer and they'll swim in the sapphire colored water and fall asleep under the stars. They'll be honorable. The Lannisters will have finally repaid all their debts."

"Well we have to live now." She whispered, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. "That sounds too nice not to live it."

"It does." His voice was soft and dreamy and it made her smile.

"That settles it then. We'll marry tomorrow."

"You're serious? You're sure?" He tried to pull back to look at her but she pressed further into his body, her lips pressing against his collarbone.

"I am."

….


	5. Chapter 5

"I just wish you'd be more patient with yourself." Tyrion's voice was soft and Sansa closed her eyes.

"I think you're being patient enough for both of us." She sighed, lacing her fingers with his again.

"I told you from the very beginning that I wouldn't touch you until you wanted me to." He brought their hands to his lips and kissed hers softly. "And I meant it."

"I do want you to." She whispered, clenching her eyes shut tighter. "I just.."

"Sansa." He called her calmly. "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do." She sniffed.

"Open your eyes." He pleaded, and she managed to calm herself enough to oblige. "I know I'm not much to look at but it might help if you do." Her lips twitched at him and she nearly smiled. He smiled back at her before taking his hand and carefully from hers and moving it down her body. He felt the muscles of her abdomen clench and he stopped there, slowly stroking his thumb across her nightclothes in sloppy circles until she relaxed. "It's just me." He unbuttoned a button and slid a thick finger between the two sides. "So Jamie came to see me today." He looked back up at her. "He wants me to send a Raven. To Tarth." Sansa's eyebrow rose and fell as she looked at her once again husband. "I know."

"He's finally ready to admit he's in love with her?"

"Well, he's ready to admit he can't live without her." Tyrion let his fingertips slide above and below the waistband of her panties with little emphasis, as if he was just fiddling with it. "Love is a complicated thing for my brother. The version of love he's been sold his whole life is a type of poison."

"You're too kind to him. He's had choices." Sansa sighed, her eyes blinking heavily. "We've all had choices."

Tyrion paused his stroking until her hand reached out and slid against his cheek, fingers scratching lightly at his beard.

"Don't stop." She breathed. He nodded, resuming his caress.

"Whatever you want." He pressed his lips to the spot his fingers had been and kissed her softly there.

"I'm glad you're here." She sighed, her hand moving from his cheek past his ear and into his hair before she settled it on his upper arm.

She'd taken to saying that lately. Tyrion thought that was as good as a declaration of love as he could hope for.

She'd said it in the crypt, when they'd thought they were going to die and then the next thing he'd known they'd been standing at the entrance to the Godswood, her arms wrapped tightly around her sister before the Lady of Winterfell was once again all business.

She'd knelt before the body Theon Greyjoy after Ayra had freed him from the spear. She rose slowly, her eyes blurred and her voice hoarse with tears.

"Take my brother's body to the crypt." She'd told the small group that had staggered back in to help. "Lay him with Rickon." As they'd begun to oblige, she'd muttered sickly. "Where ever he's wandered off to."

Arya let out a sound somewhere between a guffaw and a sob before Sansa turned on her heels and headed back towards the ruined castle. He wasn't sure why he followed her, but he found himself next to her when she pressed her back against the wall and starred helplessly out at her home.

"It will never be the same." She fought the tears in her voice. "We'll never repair all this damage."

"It will be stronger." He'd rasped out. "Just like you." She'd reached for his hand again then.

"I'm glad you're here." She'd said through her choppy tears. He'd kissed her knuckles again.

…

"Good Morning." Tyrion Lannister had not expected his brother outside of his bridal sweet the next morning, but that's who he saw.

"Good Morning." He made a face at him.

"Please at least take someone with you." Sansa huffed, breezing into the room. "Oh! Ser Jamie, I didn't see you there."

"M'Lady." Jamie gave a bit of a bow before looking back at his brother. "Oh.. and I hear congratulations are in order."

Sansa's face went sheet white for a moment before her lips pressed together tightly to keep from laughing. Tyrion snorted back a chuckle.

"On your…" He looked from his brother to her wife. "Reconciliation."

"Thank you, Ser Jamie." Sansa's lips twitched in an attempt to hold herself together.

"Is this about the raven?" Tyrion asked bluntly. "I know you're… eager, but it does take some-."

"It's not about the raven." He shook his head. "I actually came to speak to my dear sister." He looked at Sansa.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that." Tyrion scoffed. "You don't have the best track record with sisters."

"You'll be late for your meeting, My Lord." Sansa reminded him, the left side of her face rising in a smirk. "You shouldn't keep your queen waiting."

"You've been summoned to the queen?" Jamie looked as concerned as Sansa.

"I am her hand." He rolled his eyes slightly.

"Your wife is right, take someone. Just in case."

"Fine." Tyrion sighed heavily. "I will take someone, you two mother hens."

Sansa dropped towards the floor and met his eyes.

"Thank you, Husband." She told him, her eyebrows arching into v's above her beautiful eyes. He couldn't help but smile at her, and she pressed her lips to his before straightening up again.

He only looked momentarily stunned before giving his brother a quick nod.

"You wanted to speak with me, Dear Brother?" She quirked her mouth up with the title and he had the good sense to look bashful.

"It's about Ser Brienne, Dear Sister."

"Tyrion tells me you plan to wed?" Sansa gestured for him to follow her into the setting room of her chambers.

"I'm sure you were surprised." He folded his hands neatly behind his back.

"Not really." Sansa smiled. "I was in King's Landing when you returned. I may have still been a child, but I knew what love looked like."

"Then you knew before I." He had the good sense to look embarrassed.

"Tyrion seemed to think that love is a complicated thing for you." She gestured for him to sit before seating herself at the table.

"That's one way of putting it, My Lady." Jamie swallowed.

"He says the love you received was the poisonous kind." She blinked. "From your father, your sister." Jamie looked down at his feet. He didn't want to think of Cersei's kind of love.  
"A possessive kind of cruel love that only serves the person in control of it." She looked at Jamie for a second, something vulnerable breaking through her toughness. "I know that kind of love." She swallowed. "I knew it from your son. Among others."

"I am sorry for what happened to you." Jamie breathed. "All of the things that happened to you."

"As am I." She breathed softly. "Do you know you love her now?"

"I think so." He smiled sadly. "I know how that must sound to you, my uncertainty."

"It sounds honest." She answered back. "My mother used to say love was built slowly, over years, stone by stone." She swallowed hard, her eyes moving to the door Tyrion had just exited. "I find myself understanding that more and more."

"I can tell you I know I need her. That thinking of living my life without her fills me with a fear unlike anything I've ever know before." He sniffed. "The fact that I can even say that is because of her."

"Sounds like love to me." Sansa told him.

"I came to ask you if it would be possible for us to use your sept, to marry. Today." He nodded at her widening eyes.

'You aren't going to wait?" Her wide eyes blinked at him.

"My bride reminds me that we're warriors in a war, and we can't put things off or we risk never getting to them."

"Your bride is a wise woman." Sansa grinned as well. "I will be happy to call her my sister."

"I know that will mean a lot to her."

"I'll have a team clean my mother's sept as soon as possible. It was the first thing I had repaired when we reclaimed Winterfell. As soon as we'd unfurled the banners, in honor of my mother. I don't think I've gotten it quite right, but Arya disagrees. The windows are beautiful at sunset. Can you wait until then, Ser Jamie?" She blinked at him and he couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face.

"I'll do my best, Sister."

"The irony of it." She smiled. "My dear brother, Jamie Lannister marrying in my mother's sept." She swallowed. "And my being pleased beyond measure."

"It humbles me, My Lady." He lowered his head. "I want you to know that."

"We've each come a long way, My Lord."

….


	6. Chapter 6

**Thinly disguised Spoilers for 8x4… just right now in the author's note not the chapter.. You can skip it.**

**1\. Finally.**

**2\. I refuse to believe that is their last scene.**

**3\. He's going back to protect the people, not Cersei. He doesn't want her to follow, because he knows he'll die, and she may very well too.**

**4\. She's going to follow. (Jesus she's got to follow right?!)**

….

"This is all really not necessary." Brienne held perfectly still as Sansa and her ladies circled around her.

"It is necessary." Sansa smiled.

"You're doing this for Ser Jamie." One of the woman, who's name she was constantly screwing up, giggled. "You want to look good for him, don't you?"

"Why?" Her eyes darted from side to side. "He knows what I look like and he wants to marry me anyway."

"Stop it." Sansa tilted her head. "We're not doing this for Jamie. We are doing this for you. Every woman should look her most beautiful on her wedding day."

"I can't even imagine what that would look like." Brienne sighed wiggling slightly where she stood.

"Hold still!" The seamstress chastised. Sansa winced.

"She'd poke you if you weren't wearing white." The Lady of Winterfell told her, a eyebrow raising slightly. "She's only being careful because she doesn't want to get blood on the dress."

"At least not yet." Another girl giggled, Sansa's eyes rolled dramatically, and Brienne bit her lip.

"On that note." Arya rolled her eyes before returning with a tea set. "Moon tea all around?"

Brienne's eyes widened, but she nodded just the same. Arya poured a cup and reached it out to her sister. Sansa paused for a moment before her head tilted and surprised smile came to her face.

"Actually I think I'll pass." She said evenly. Her younger sister's face went blank.

"Seriously?" She whispered breathlessly. Sansa's bit her bottom lip, before shrugging at her. Arya's face widened into a smile nodding at her before turning toward the future Lady Lannister. "You planning on having babies too?"

"Not yet for, Gods' sake." Brienne sighed, waving the cup towards her.

"Hold still!" The seamstress yelled again. Ayra handed her a cup before grasping one of her own, giving her a mock solute before swallowing it down. Brienne followed suite with a wince.  
"There have a look M'Lady."

Sansa turned as the seamstress shook the fabric out around her swordswoman, her mouth making a soft 'o' shape as she did.

"I look like the Mountain with a dress on don't I?" The taller woman breathed.

"You look amazing." Sansa answered.

"She'll freeze." Arya chided, her eyes sliding up the long expanse of visible leg.

"It's warm in the sept." Sansa snapped. "She'll have a cloak. She looks amazing."

"You really do." Arya agreed, looking up at the other woman. "Your legs are the length of my entire body.

The older Stark girl reached out her hands and pulled the woman towards the nearby chair.

"Sit." She gestured. "Janna help me." She pulled a silver box from the dresser and opened it. "We'll run out of time. Arya channel the lessons Mother taught you. Get the brushes."

Her little sister heaved a sigh before doing she was told as Brienne sat statue still, her large eyes sweeping from side to side as Sansa pressed her face with powders and creams while Ayra begrudgingly twisted and pinned pieces of hair with jewels and flowers.

"Ready?" Brienne looked at the Stark girls; the ones she'd sworn an oath to find and return to their mother, the ones that had entwined her destiny with Jamie's in the first place. Sansa's strong sense of duty and honor was betrayed only by the sparkle in her eyes of a little girl who once loved weddings and romance. In her sister was a girl who knew her way around a world she wasn't meant for, but would miss just the same. Brienne knew she was somewhere in between the two. She nodded, standing slowly as Sansa turned her toward the mirror.

Her mouth slipped open.

"Don't cry." Ayra breathed. "Not until he sees you. It will smudge your makeup."

"Well, Dear Sisters." Sansa took her and Arya's hands in each of hers. "Let's go to the sept then, shall we?"

….

"Are you ready?" Tyrion looked at his brother, Jamie nodded quickly. "Are you sure?" His brother lowered himself in to his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. "Because you look like you're going to vomit."

"What am I doing?" He breathed heavily.

"Getting married." He blinked. "In Winterfell; in a sept smaller than an outhouse, in a damned hurry because your future wife can't wait any longer to bone you."

"I'm a complete idiot." He rubbed his face again. Tyrion had shaved his brother's beard that morning. Despite the fact that they were in the North, in the Winter. Despite the fact that Tyrion warned his southern born brother that he and his southern born bride may actually freeze to death up here, he wanted to look nice. Noble. "I'm taking this Noble born last of her line, most pure of all the Knights of the Seven kingdoms and binding her to _me._ The honor-less, one handed, sister fucking, king slayer." Tyrion winced. "Who the hell do I think I am?"

"You really have changed haven't you?" The half-man whispered airily.

"What?" Jamie whispered softly.

"Come on." Tyrion rolled his eyes, reaching out and grabbing his brothers hand. He started for the door before looking back at a dumbfounded Jamie. "Get the cloak. Come on."

"Did you not just hear what I said?"

"You jumped one handed into a fucking bear pit for her. You gave her your twin sword, Valyrian fucking steel! You armored her. You rode a bloody horse all the way north to fucking Winterfell when everyone here wanted your head on a stick, to fight the dead at her side. You knighted her. You fought beside her. You sat vigil at her bedside for days. Damn it Jamie you refused to even fuck her until you wed. You sent a _raven_ to her _father._"

If Tyrion Lannister had been as tall as his brother he would have smacked him, instead he yanked his arm.

"She has brought out nothing but your honor, and as far as I can see she's given up none of her own." He almost yelled. "Don't fuck this up!" Jamie looked down at him before sobering with a nod. "Now get the damn cloak."

Jamie nodded quickly before following his brother down to the sept.

Podrick met them at the door with a grin.

Tyrion watched his brother keenly, catching his wife's eye as she slipped into the room and to his side.

"He's freaking out." He whispered to her.

"Oh Gods." Her hand flew to her mouth as she looked around the room as if they might smite her. He chuckled a little before gesturing to Jamie. He absently brought his right arm up to rub his mouth again, stopping as he felt the cold metal connect with his fresh face. He stared at it like it was foreign to him. Tyrion winced. "Oh Gods." Sansa repeated unabashed this time.

"What's wrong?" Arya whispered from behind her.

"He's cracking up." Tyrion muttered. Jon and Dany had taken their spots in the small space and Podrick had gone to retrieve Brienne when suddenly Jamie turned to his brother.

"Help me take it off." He murmured, extending his hand to him.

"What?" His nose wrinkled.

"Help me take the damn thing off." He grumbled in an attempt to stay quiet as Sansa stepped forward and helped him roll up his sleeve. "Thank you." He breathed at her. "Please, just get the damn thing off."

"How do I?" She asked suddenly glancing back towards the door.

"Just loosen the laces and pull." Tyrion said helpfully stepping up and showing her. His brother pulled, and Sansa looked at the wrapped limb before quickly un rolling the wrap and passing it to Tyrion who unceremoniously shoved it in his pocket. Sansa deftly folded up the sleeve until his limb sat right at the cuff. Jamie swallowed hard, wiping his damp eyes.

"Thank you, my dear Sister." He repeated kissing her cheek as she slipped back beside her husband.

"What happened?" Tyrion asked in confusion.

"Some scars aren't meant to be hidden." She told him honestly clutching their joined hands to her breast. Tyrion would look back later and realize he had decided to love her then, to really truly love her. But in that moment however, all eyes drifted to the entrance of the small sept.

…

Jamie was pretty sure he stopped breathing when he caught sight of her. He didn't hear the guests gasp, or the staggered tears of Tormund the Giantsbane. He didn't hear anything except his own breathing as she met him at the altar. Her eyes flipped from his face to his arms as he reached for her. Her left hand carefully reaching out and taking his right arm in hers. He watched her take a sharp breath, and give him a watery smile. Her thumb caressing the end of his arm. Tears slipped down his face when he blinked and she smiled her most radiant smile at him with pink painted lips.

He wouldn't remember the words spoken if his whole life depended on it. They'd already made their vow, it occurred to him suddenly; in a bathhouse in Harrenhall, in a red tent in RIver Run, in the great hall of Winterfell and on the battlefield against the dead. And Jamie Lannister had never felt anything more strongly.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N I literally want to puke.

Thank God for Fan Fiction.

That is all

…..

"Tormund is looking at me like he wants to fillet me and gnaw on my dried bones." Jamie whispered in ear. She laughed back and he held her eyes as he grinned into his chalice. "He's very scary."

"I'll protect you." She told him.

"Where would you even sheath a sword in that?" He gestured to her dress, before seeming to get momentarily lost in her form.

"I can think of someplace." She hummed, the dornish wine making her bold. His eyebrows hit his hairline as he stared at her. "Do you think we've been here long enough?"

"Probably not." He told her as she leaned in just a little. He took the hint pressing his mouth to hers and pulling away with a whimper.

"You look gorgeous." He told her. "Slightly defenseless, but gorgeous."

"I can promise you My Lord, I've never been described as either." Her voice was low, and smelled of dornish wine, her hand moving further up his thigh with each sip. He turned towards his younger brother opening his mouth to ask the question.

"A few toasts a few dances and then no one will notice if you leave." Tyrion told him bluntly, without even hearing the question.

"Thank you, Dear Brother." Brienne said over his shoulder, her blue eyes dancing in the candle light.

The Imp tipped his cup to her before commencing with the toast.

…..

"You must be freezing." Jamie noted as they moved back towards their room. He pulled the cloak tighter around her.

"Not after all the wine." She breathed. He twisted her body and pinned her against the door with his, knowing full well she could free herself. "Is this where you overpower me, fling me down and tear off my clothes?" He rolled his eyes up just a little before, pressing his lips to hers.

"I would like to think I've changed since then." He whispered in her ear.

"I suppose you have." He pressed his lips to her throat and her eyes fluttered. "Can we go inside now?"

He sniffed, moving his hand to the door handle ad letting it slip open and pulling her inside. He moved a fallen twist of jeweled hair from her forehead and gave her a soft smile.

"I never told you how proud I was of you." She swallowed, wrapping her wrist around his right arm before closing her other hand over the top. "I know how hard that was for you to do."

"It's.. " He took a step back towards the bed and looked at her. "I needed to show you. Maybe not you maybe I needed to show myself." He huffed out a laugh and she brought one of her hands to his face. "That I'm leaving it behind. All of it."

His new wife looked at him intently, her other hand slipping out from under his stump and sliding onto the other cheek.

"You don't have to you know." Her voice was hoarse and he watched the tears from in her eyes with interest. "You don't have to leave him behind. I married him too."

"Could have told me that before I stood in front of Winterfell with my stump hanging out." He teased uneasily.

"You're a good man." She told him softly.

"Because of you." He told her softly. "If I'm a good man, it's because of you."

"No." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You w-" He turned his face then, sealing his mouth over hers with hungry kisses, feeling her body tense with surprise until her hand melted back into his hair and clasped him to her. He pulled at the tie at the nape of her neck and the dress slipped off her shoulders and pooled at her feet. He dropped his head and kissed her softly between her breasts. ''Jamie.."

"There are like 40 buttons on this tunic and Pod did every last one of them." He chuckled at her helplessly. She pulled back slightly her hand grazing his chest.

Jamie grasped her hips with his hand and forearm, meeting her eyes before he slid her undergarments of off them effortlessly. She took a staggered breath before pulling his shirt from his pants before he pushed them off. He clumsily stepped out of them before she pressed him back to the bed. He watched the sudden rush of confidence leave her, it shocked him how fragile she looked before him, her pale skin glowing in the fire light. His lips parted slowly as he watched her chest heave with wild breath.

"Come here." He whispered softly to her, reaching out his hand and pulling her in. "Look at me." He told her, skimming her hip with his lame arm as he pulled her hand to his buttons. She held his eyes as she let one knee settle on each side of him. He brushed her face again, before letting his hand ghost her shoulders before sliding down her back to her hips as she worked the buttons. She pressed her face into his neck as she slid the tunic down each of his arms before he wound them back around her. "We can do this slowly. We have all night." He soothed. "We have forever."

"Jamie?" She breathed again tilting her face back to his. He pressed his forehead into hers and hummed. "Shut up."

"Yes My Lady." Jamie Lannister found better things to do with his mouth.

…


	8. Chapter 8

It's after they learn of the battle plan that the nightmares started.

He dreamt he's in the dragon crypt, the walls around him tumbling in as he tries to save Cersei from the mess she's created. Dream Jamie hugged her to him and whispered sweet words as his hand snakes up her back until it's firmly around her neck. He paralleled his gold appendage against his flesh one and pressed them as closely together as he could, with his twin sisters throat in the way. He held her close so he can't see her face, still whispering encouragement and comfort as he killed her.

He woke up with a gasp and finds himself beside his wife, her hands clasping his cheeks.

"It's alright." She told him calmly. "It's all right."

He took little gulps of breaths swallowing down sobs with each one. She kissed his forehead and he wiggled closer until he's at her breast like a little boy.

"You're alright." She tossed her leg over his hip and clutched until there is no space between them. "It's alright."

"What if she can be stopped? He ground out.

"She can't be." She assured him. She'd been angry at the plan. She'd tried to counter. She'd spoken to Sansa she'd spoken to Tyrion. She'd made an emotional appeal for the child, Jamie's child.

If either of them had been swayed enough to take it to Jon she wasn't sure, but the plan had not changed.

"What if I can stop her?" He lifted his head and met her eyes and she suddenly understood what he was saying. She tried to stop it from happening but he felt her body bristle just the same. He winced and she could feel the air between them where she'd moved her body slightly from his.

He didn't look away and her thumbs had not stopped brushing against his damp face, but the air felt like a betrayal, she just wasn't sure which one of them it betrayed.

"I should put another log on the-." He closed his eyes tightly as he pulled her face back to his and pressed his lips to hers. "Jamie-."

"Don't you dare." He choked out, drawing her tightly to his body with his lame appendage. "Don't." She groaned out what could have been the beginning of a sob and he winced again, pressing his kiss into her with everything that he couldn't say but needed her to know. "I'm sorry." He told her. "Don't you dare leave this bed."

"Jamie." Her tone was frustrated, but her hands have weaved into his hair now.

"Our first fight will not be about her." He begged her. "I can be about anything else, but not her."

"It's hardly our first fight." She snipped at him, watching the corner of his mouth quirk up.

"Since the wedding." He corrected, pressing his stump against the small of her back.

"We haven't fought since the wedding?" She raised and eyebrow at him.

"I prefer to think of it as foreplay." He decided, following her banter with barely contained relief.

"You do, do you?" She countered with a grin.

"I do." He kissed her forehead, and her eyes slipped shut letting the side of her face brush against his. They laid there in the darkness without speaking for so long Jamie was sure she'd fallen back asleep. He took slow even breaths, his left hand stretching out his fingers against her shoulder blade. He wouldn't sleep now, he couldn't. He knew he'd see Cersei's face. He knew he'd kill her. Over and over. He knew he'd die with her. Jamie swallowed hard, pulling back his arm and tracing it down the edges of Brienne's face.

"I'm on your side." She says softly, her eyes slipping open into his. "You know that don't you?"

"It's not the right side to be on." He admitted, looking away.

"I know you love her." Brienne told him evenly. "I've always known that, it doesn't change anything."

He swallowed hard, his eyes damp and red and looking anywhere but at her.

"I don't deserve this." He scoffed. He didn't' deserve her. He did not deserve to be happy. He did not deserve to live here as Kings Landing burned because of her. Her, the other half of him.

"You're right." She told him firmly, she grabs his face and forces him to look at her. "You didn't deserve the father you had, or your mother dying when you were so young. You didn't deserve to spend your life being controlled and manipulated by your sister. You didn't deserve to be branded the kingslayer, or to loose the chance to claim your own children. You did not deserve to watch them die. You did not deserve to lose your hand and you did not deserve to be forced to live with the memories of what you have done.

"You're a good man. You're not like her. You don't have to die with her." She looked like she might sob, Jamie's throat felt raw and sour when he swallowed.

"The things I've done-."

"For her." Brienne interrupted sharply. "You did those things for her. Let them die with her." His lips trembled. "You deserve to be happy." She almost made him believe it. "We can be happy."

She kissed him then, soundly and desperately. He knew it was a plea. One her pride wouldn't allow her to actually make.

He rolled her to her back and covered her body with his. Touching and kissing and caressing her as reverently as he could, while slowly pushing his sister from his mind. He could be here. He could spend the rest of his life making her happy.

And maybe he could be happy too, all he had to do was let Cersei go.

…

Tyrion Lannister sat beside the fire examining his brother. He wished he could write off the dark circles under his eyes to being just over one month married, but he knew that wasn't it.

"Your lady made quiet the plea to spare our sister." He decided to broach the subject directly.

"I don't want to talk about it." Jamie rubbed his face.

"I'm not quite sure your worthy of her, bear pit rescue considered."

"You're telling this to me?" Jamie sniffed.

"Sansa seemed less moved then I." Tyrion sighed.

"I think I said I don't want to talk about this." His brother winced.

"But she did watch them execute her father." He continued.

"Please stop." Jamie groaned, turning to face his little brother head on.

"She did tell her that despite everything, Myrcella and Tommen were kind." He watched his face crumble just a little. "That they didn't deserve what happened to them, and that given the chance she felt this baby could be like them." Jamie looked hopeful. "My wife just feels that is Cersei's chance to give. Not the Queens."

"And Jon?"

"I'm not sure." Tyrion looked at his cup. "It's in our best interest right now that I stay away from asking Jon what he thinks."

"Does she know he's told them? That we know?" Jamie looked suddenly on guard.

"No." He shook his head. "No we don't suspect that, but if Daenerys' does find out-."

"We're all dragon food." Jamie finished. Tyrion raised an eyebrow and took a long drink. "Bran took a big risk by telling you."

"He told Sansa he looked back upon my life and realized that I was someone who could be trusted." He huffed.

"That must have been-."

"Slightly terrifying?" He completed looking at his brother.

"I was going to say nice." Jamie mused. "But dangerous, so we should never speak of it again." He picked up his own cup and took a swig. "And you shouldn't go South."

"You sound like my wife." Tyrion moaned. "I am her Hand, I can't very well not go. How do I explain that one?"

"But I'm supposed to stay here? Like a good Stark lap dog?" Jamie snorted. "While you go get yourself killed by our sister or fried by your queen?"

"Neither one of you should go South." Came a voice from the doorway.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Tyrion snorted, but Jamie was already to his feet, his eyes fixed steadily on the cross bow.

"Bronn." The edge in Jamie's voice made Tyrion set his challis down on the table. "She sent you? How ironic of her. Nice touch. Make it personal."

"I'm not supposed to kill you." Bronn sighed heavily before Tyrion groaned.

"How much do I owe you?" The Imp grumbled.

"Two River Runs." Bronn raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well shit." The Imp muttered. Jamie still stood frozen as if his whole body had suddenly been dipped in gold.

"You're never getting River-." He muttered.

""I'm supposed to kill your wife." Bronn interrupted. "In front of you, as horribly as possible." He shook his head. "I knew you were fucking her." Jamie's eyes bore into him and just as suddenly as he arrived he dropped the cross bow onto the table and dropped into a chair. "Oh relax, She'd break me in two before I had a chance to touch a hair on her ugly-" Jamie's gold hand swept out like a lion's paw and he swatted his friend in the face with it, sending him crashing chair and all to the ground. Tyrion scrambled for the crossbow as Jamie stood over his victim.

"I thought you'd stopped wearing that damn thing?" Tyrion asked him breathlessly.

"I still wear it when I'm training the young men in the practice yard. They find it intimidating."

"I can see why." Tyrion was still messing with the contraption, in an attempt to disarm it.

"Give me that before we have a repeat performance where you gut yourself this time." He tossed the thing onto the table behind him. "What do we do with him?"

"We'll let the Lady of Winterfell decide that." Tyrion's mouth twitched into a half smile.

"Don't be too hard on him." Jamie decided. "I don't think he was really going to kill any of us."

"You're bride would not be pleased you defended her honor." Tyrion smirked.

"Let's not tell her that part shall we?" Jamie sighed, still looking at the man prone on the floor.

…..

"You are being ridiculous. I can take care of myself." His wife was yelling. "And you for that matter."

"Please, listen to me." Jamie said softly from his spot at the table as she paced back and forth around their chamber.

"I will listen to you when you say something that makes sense."

"She paid a man _a castle_ to come and kill you!" Jamie shouted back, his body rocketing from the chair. "In front of me." He added meekly. "I can't protect you from that."

"You've protected me from far worse." She was calmer now, but her voice was still firm and devoid of any warmth she may have allowed him. "And as I have stated before, I can protect myself."

"He walked right into Tyrion's study like he owned the place with a crossbow while we were half drunk, unarmed and talking about things that would get us killed for treason." Jamie swallowed hard. "My brother is the God Damned Lord of Winterfell and if it had been anyone but Bronn he would be stuffed and mounted for Cersei's throne room right now."

"Jamie-." She started dismissively, but he took the two giant steps until he was standing in front of her, stopping her methodical pacing.

"It's her or us." He said softly. "Don't you see that?"

"Let the Dragon Queen do the job." She ground out.

"And if she doesn't?" Jamie begged.

"Then we'll revisit this conversation." She swallowed. "I'm going to check in on Sansa's door guards. As you have proven to me that security has gone a bit slack around here." He watched her yank Oathkeeper from where it sat with Widow's Wail and stop to the door. "Try not to be murdered while I'm gone."


	9. Chapter 9

**To say this chapter hurt to write is an understatement, but I promise to follow it up quickly with the next.**

...

It's not until Tyrion leaves for King's Landing that Jamie works up the nerve to go see Bronn.

"I wondered how long it would be till you came sulking around." The man said from his spot on the floor. He gestured to the large bruise on his face and gave Jamie a look of appreciation. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"If you push the right buttons." Jamie huffed, standing on the other side of the bars and looking at his old friend.

"I knew you were fucking her, I didn't know you loved her." Bronn snorted. "Guess I miscalculated. No wonder Cersei wants her dead."

"How is she?" Jamie asked sheepishly, trying to fight down the waves of guilt that rose in his chest.

"Angry." Bronn shrugged. "Pregnant." He gestured to his own stomach, rounding his hand around it like it was large. "Says it's Euron Greyjoy's. They're planning a big wedding, inviting half the city into the keep for it. Like the Dragon Queen isn't about to fry them all."

Jamie pressed his face into his left hand, and leaned against the wall.

"Oh relax, everyone knows she's too far along for it to be Greyjoy's except for Greyjoy." Bronn growled at him.

"I wish it was." Jamie grunted, slowly sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the floor outside Bronn's cell like they were mirrors. "I wish it was Euron Fucking Greyjoy's and that she'd sent you here to kill me." He clenched his eyes shut. "She's going to sacrifice that city. Sacrifice the child. For what? So she can die the queen?"

"There's Greenfire." He nodded at Jamie. "She's got it stashed."

Jamie remembered the blue flame of the dead dragon and the red rush of fire from the living ones. He closed his eyes.

"Are you the only one?" He asked hoarsely.

"That she sent to kill you?" Bronn asked flippedly.

"That she sent to kill my wife!" He yelled.

"You love her." The sellsword shook his head in disbelief.

"Answer me." Jamie swallowed, trying not to plead.

"I think so." He nodded quickly. "Haven't heard anyone else running around telling people they're the Lord of River Run."

"I thought you wanted Highgarden?" Jamie whispered, smirking at the memory.

"That's what I was going to barter with Tyrion for until you knocked me on my arse." Bronn shrugged, Jamie snickered back at him.

….

The first night he dreams that Cersei's dispatched the Golden Army to kill his wife is the first day he realizes he'd do anything to protect her. Anything.

That's when he started writing the letter, hoping he'd never need it. It was a few days later that he admitted to himself that he'd been sneaking around, watching her throughout the day. The next week he'd begun checking in almost compulsively. He knew she'd noticed, they'd spent to much time side by side, worrying about each other not to. She hadn't said anything. Worse yet, she had indulged him. Twice now she'd exchanged looks with Sansa before crossing the yard to him. Today is the third.

"Hi." She stood straight, her eyes forward and formal despite the softness of her tone.

"Hi." He scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling like an idiot. "How's Sansa?"

"She misses your brother." Brienne scanned the yard, officially looking for threats he supposed. He knew she wouldn't find it out there.

"So do I." He sighed. "I should let you work."

Sansa walked towards them, with long determined steps and they both turned towards her, eyes dropping on the paper in her hand.

"Sam received a raven from Tyrion." She told them breathlessly.

"And?" Brienne could sense the dread in him, her body going rod straight again.

"Euron Greyjoy's fleet attacked their ships. One of the dragons was killed and they've captured Missandei." Jamie swallowed hard and Sansa looks at him with something between pity and relief. "Jon is still days away at least.""

Jamie gave a quick nod, Sansa looked as if she had more to say, but she glanced quickly at Brienne before leaving them alone.

"She's spending the evening with Arya." His wife blinked at him. "I don't think I'll be necessary, if you need me to-." He tried not to say yes, but his body betrayed him with a nod. "Give me just a minute."

She walked back to the Lady of Winterfell and says something that made her glance up at Jamie with a look he never wanted to see again. He dropped his chin to his chest and waits for her to retrieve him.

"Have you eaten?" She asked as she returned to his side. He looked up at her, his eyes burning. He reached out and brushed his hand against hers and watched her stoney expression falter just a little. "Come with me."

Once inside there room, she turned her body toward his.

"Talk to me." She whispered, calmly, reaching up and undoing the clasp of her armor. "Tell me."

He watched her swing the breast plate off and wiggled free of her top layer. He ran his fingers over the shoulder strap of her undershirt. "Whatever it is that you see when close your eyes, whatever is eating you up inside, please just tell me."

He slid his fingers along her jaw and she let the air leave her lungs in a controlled rush.

"Jamie we need to talk about this." She pleaded softly.

"You won't like what I have to say." He told her calmly, pressing his lips to the others side of her face.

"Jamie." She whispered, clenching the sleeve of his shirt in her fist.

"Just let me hold you." He kissed across her throat. "That'll make me feel better.

"We should-." Her hand was already undoing the ties of his outer clothes.

"Don't make me beg My Lady." He teased.

She ran her hands along his obliques and pulled away rid them both of their clothes. He pulled her back to him and held her tightly.

"It won't fix anything." She sighed pressing her forehead into his clavicle.

"I know." He breathed. "I know."

She shuttered out a broken breath and he winced, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

"I'm afraid this can't be fixed tonight."

...

He woke up with a start. He's dreamt the mountain has gouged out her sapphire blue eyes. He's dreamt of his baby's bashed in head laid at the feet of the Iron Throne. He's dreamt of Cersei holding a dagger to Tyrion's throat. He's pictured his sister dead on the floor map of Westeros with Widow's Wail sticking from her chest.

He realized he's alone with her hands didn't rush to comfort him and for the first time he's cold in the swelteringly hot room. He put his palm on the spot where she lies and it's cold. She must have gone to check on Sansa. Jamie rose and gathered whaat he'll need without letting himself think about it.

He fights himself into his armor and sits at the foot of the bed for a second. Clutching the letter in his hand. He wanted to be gone by the time she came back but he's still sitting there.

"What are you doing?" She asked, with a resoluteness in her voice that told him she knew exactly what he was doing.

"I have to go to King's Landing." He didn't mean to say it, but now that he has he knows it was a mistake. Her eyes widen, and she huffs out a strangled sound that makes his heart clench in his chest. "I have to try and stop her."

"You really don't." Her voice is flat.

"I really do." He swallowed sitting on the bed.

"Getting yourself killed with her isn't going to solve anything."

"I might save the population of an entire city." He yelled. "It might save the child. It might save my brother. It might save-."

He stops himself but she heard the name anyway. Cersei. _Always Cersei._

"Go on." She tells him, her voice is now stone and it's slowly crushing him. "Say it."

"I don't want to fight with you about this." He rubbed his face.

"You don't want her between us, but she already is." Brienne shook her head slowly. "She always has been."

"You are my wife." He countered quickly.

"And she is your sister." Brienne said, as a matter of fact.

"She wants you dead." He whispered. "Don't you see that? Because of me. She wants you dead. I talked to Bronn."

"Bronn, the man sent to kill us? That's your wise council. That's who you're confiding in and listening to instead of me?" She demanded.

"There are things he understands that you do not."

"I'm sure there are." She yelped. "I can protect myself."

"What if Daenerys fails?"

"I can protect myself." She repeated stubbornly.

"Against a mad queen?" He looks up at her like a little boy. "I won't have you killed for my mistakes. I won't have an entire city, the one that I suffered dishonorment to save once before, burn to the ground at the hands of Cersei Lannister."

"Is that what it is?" She challenges him, and he remembers the expression of her rod straight in the bath at Harrenhall as he kept his eyes trained on hers. "Honor? Or is it about Cersei. Your sick obsession with your-."

"Maybe it is." He whispered so softly despite the fact that it sucks the air out of the room. "Maybe it is." Jamie could see the tears forming in her eyes then and he gripped the edge of the mattress to keep from going to her. He knew she would reject his comfort now. Jamie moved his eyes to the floor. "If I'm so redeemable, why isn't she?" He shrugs. "Wouldn't that be the great irony." He heard the edge creeping into his voice. One he hadn't used on her in a very long time. "If it turned out that the Honorable Ser Jamie Lannister was really still the shit person you thought he was in the beginning. If you little rehab project was a failure and I am no better the Cersei."

He clicked his eyes up to her and watched her try to steady the tremble that wracked her body.

"Don't be hateful." Brienne ground out.

"I am hateful." He shook his head. "And so is she."

Jamie stood up slowly, grabbed his things before grasping his gold hand in his flesh palm.

"Good Bye Brienne." He whispered as he passed her, just as he had so many times before.


	10. Chapter 10

He hadn't slept in four days. He knew if he didn't soon he'll fall off the damn horse. He heard her voice shouting in his mind, a distant reminder from the past of what it feels like to fall off your horse. His horse was tired. He was tired. He tied the damn thing up and and tosses some water and food in its general direction. He'd sent a letter to Tyrion but he didn't even know if his brother was still alive to receive it.

He remembered telling Bronn he wanted to die in the arms of the woman he loves, but he no longer knew who that was. If you would have told any version of past Jamie Lannister that he would ever be confused about this he would have laughed in your face, and possibly killed you, but that now seems like a long time ago. The further he'd strayed from _her_ the looser her hold on him had become. At first it had frightened him, created a desperate desire to return to her.

Until Harrenhall, where he'd felt something shift. For a moment he'd thought he'd die in another's arms, right there his face pressed against her pale naked body, and it had somehow seemed alright.

Jamie knew now he'd kill Cersei to protect his wife. He'd kill anyone to protect his wife, but he also knew there was some truth to what he'd said to her. If Cersei could be redeemed, he owed it to her didn't he? To give her the same chance Brienne had given him? Didn't he? And then what?

That was the part he couldn't quite figure out. The part that didn't work. He'd redeem her, then what? Drop her off at Casterly Rock, begging King Jon's mercy and return to his wife?

Or maybe he could take her to Winterfell, get her a nice job in the kitchens? Clearly Sansa would oblige, give her and the baby a nice little chamber near his and Brienne's? She'd turn Winterfell into a home for wayward lions.

He felt like a fool, freezing in the mud waiting for sleep that brought nightmares of his wife and child being killed by his twin in the most methodical and horrible ways. And this time when he woke in terror he couldn't be reassured of her safety by her soft pale body surrounding his.

He touched his hand to Widow Wails hilt when he heard the hoofs approach him. Sansa had promised him safe passage, but the dragons and lions didn't answer to her. He waited, wondering if it was even worth the fight.

"Ser Jamie." Someone said into the darkness. "We are to take you to the Hand of the Queen at once."

"Which Queen?" He rasped, before laughing bitterly. "Which fucking queen?"

…..

"You wanted to see me My Lady."

Sansa blinked, her head tilting to the left as she studied the other woman. She looked as she always had, the only difference was the slight tightness in her forehead, like she had a headache, or was straining to see clearly. Sansa figured it was a bit of both.

"How are you?"

"I'm well." She said automatically, refusing to acknowledge the depth of the question. Sansa waited. "I'm fine."

"I'm sure you are." She told her gently, turning to her desk.

Brienne's face betrayed her for just a moment. She envied Sansa's gentleness, after all she'd be through the somehow managed to be fiercely strong by still remarkably vulnerable. It made Brienne feel both jealous and broken.

When the Lady of Winterfell turned again she clutched a piece of paper tightly in her hand.

"Ser Jamie-." Sansa began.

"Is where he wants to be." Brienne said sharply. "And I am where I want to be." Sansa held her eyes before looking down at her hand and touching the paper almost tenderly.

"He left this with me." The younger woman opened her palm, Brienne remained statue still.

"My Lady.." She didn't know what she meant to say next.

"I swore to him that I would only give it to you if we got word he'd been killed." Sansa noticed the way the other woman's jaw tightened and her breath quickened. "Turns out I'm not as good at keeping my sworn word as you are. Tyrion wrote me to tell me he made it to camp this morning."

Brienne's eyes sunk shut in relief. She'd thought she had come to terms with his imminent death but the second Sansa had spoken the words everything in her had suddenly seemed meaningless. Her Lady reached out her arm and extended the paper to her and she took it.

"I have a new request of you." Sansa was still talking , but Brienne barely heard her, the paper was burning into her fingers and her mouth had gone dry. The sudden fear of losing him made the muscles of her body shake with the effort it took to stand. She wasn't ready. "As you know my husband has loyalties that conflict with his queen." Brienne looked up and watched her swallow hard. "And while he assures me that he is under her protection I feel that there are circumstances that may cause this to change. And not two weeks ago he and Jamie were nearly murdered by a sellsword in my home." Sansa lifted her chin. "I will not stand here in the North and leave him defenseless." Brienne's stoic resolve was cracking and Sansa knew she was walking a fine line.

"I am sworn to protect you-."

"If I recall correctly." Sansa interrupted, her face morphing into the formidable Lady of Winterfell that reminded Brienne of her mother. "You have been sworn to both my mother's daughters, have you not?"

Brienne nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"Good then." She sighed. "My impulsive baby sister has also left Winterfell for the South and I fear for her safety as well."

Brienne straightened her mouth twitching.

"Your sister is quite capable-."

"Read the letter." Sansa whispered. "Get back to me with your decision afterward." Brienne's fingers gripped the paper as she nodded. "And Sister." She froze, the tears she'd been holding back threatening to spill. "If you need to talk about it." The knight nodded, as the tears slipped over her eyelids and she swiped them angrily away.

…..

"You are the dumbest Lannister." Tyrion had greeted his brother two days before with a sigh. "You look like shit."

"Thanks." Jamie huffed, rubbing his hands on his knees.

"What were you thinking?"

"I don't know." He hung his head.

"Where you going to stop her or save her?"

"I don't know?" He exclaimed again, this time settling his eyes back on the ceiling of the tent.

"Well you should probably figure that out before they start giving out the jobs." Tyrion snorted.

"If I could appeal to her." He whispered.

"I tried." Tyrion told him.

"Well she likes me more than you."

"She left Bronn a detailed description on how she wanted your wife killed while you watched. She's got a bounty on your head for treason. And you come into town with that damn golden bulls eye."

"She'll take me back." Jamie told him firmly. Tyrion looked at him. "Use me. Use me to get to her."

"So you've made your decision?" Jamie didn't say anything. Tyrion watched him swallow hard before looking down at his hands.

"You've been in contact with Sansa?" His older brother glanced at him and he nodded. "Has she said anything about…" His eyes closed again and he bit his lip.

"You are an idiot." Tyrion sighed and Jamie snorted out a pitiful laugh, his eyes filling with tears as he did.

"Guilty as charged."

"I'll ask about your wife the next time I correspond with mine." His younger brother sighed. "I am glad you're here though, our time being in the Dragon Queens good graces is running out."

"Why?"

"Sanasa told Varys about Jon." He rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Is she insane?" Jamie squeaked.

"More likely impatient." Tyrion shook his head.

"She's going to get us all killed!" Jamie swallowed.

"I'm pretty sure that was not her intention, but she does see that as a very real possibility now."

….

Once sealed inside her chamber Brienne closed her eyes tightly and unrolled the note. She moved her hand across the page, it must have taken him hours to write this much this clearly. She wiped her eyes and scanned the page.

_I don't expect you to forgive me, but I promise you if I had lived I'd be grovelling at your feet for that forgiveness right now._

_Cersei understood our connection before I did, possibly before even you had realized. She used you to get to me and she wouldn't hesitate to use me to get to you._

_She'd have killed you. I couldn't let that happen._

_I promise you. Even now as I watch you sleep that my last thoughts will have been of you. My last breath I will have closed my eyes and remembered being in your arms. You in sept on our wedding day with the stained glass glowing behind you._

_I wanted to fight at your side until my last breath, but I couldn't let you die for this._

_Please forgive me. I had to do this on my own. You'll be fine without me I know you will, but I wouldn't have survived a minute without you._

_I love you. I'm sorry you never got to hear me say it._

"You stupid man." She whispered to the paper. "You stupid, stupid Man."

Brienne stood slowly and splashed water across her face before taking a deep breath and marching back across the yard.

"Podrick!" She called crisply and he jumped to his feet and followed. She found Sansa where she'd left him. "And who will protect you in my absence my Lady?"

The wardeness of the North slid her eyes to the squire before turning back to her and giving a tight nod. Brienne turned to the young man.

"Podrick. In a few minutes I am going to ask as your last act as my squire that you'll ready my horse, but first I ask if you pledge your allegiance to this house."

He looked at her in confusion.

"Yes My Lady."

"And you would fulfill my oath to Lady Sansa if I were unable?"

"Of course my Lady." Brienne swallowed before swinging her eyes back to Sansa who gave her another tight nod.

"The pledge now please." Brienne's words were curt and urgent. Pod's mouth slipped open."Now please. Your sword."

She stood back as her prodigy laid his sword at Sansa's feet, trying to slow the the adrenaline coursing through her. He was at least a weeks ride, probably more. He could be dead by then. Pod rose and turned to her in confusion once again. She forced herself to smile.

"I know you'll let no harm come to her."

"On my life." He told her quickly and she nodded.

"You'll ready my horse?"

"Where will you be heading Ser?"

"White Harbor." Sansa interjected as both sets of eyes turned to her. "There is a ship waiting for her there." Pod hurried off and Brienne turned to Sansa.

"I meant what I said about my husband. I've grown quite fond of him." She grinned at the other woman. "But your own Lannister is to be your main concern."

Brienne suddenly found herself clutching the girl to her chest her breath uneven and course.

"Fare thee well Sister." Sansa whispered before pulling back and leaving her standing alone in small courtyard.


	11. Chapter 11

"You have to listen to me." Tyrion hissed in the darkness.

Jon's head shook slowly back and forth.

"Did you not see what just happened here?" Jon yelped. "How treason will be dealt with?'

"Yes. She just fried a man I have known my whole life. I don't know why you and I are still alive, but if we'd like to keep it that way I suggest you think very long and hard about where your loyalties lie."

"What do you know about my loyalties?" He yelled back.

"Like it or not I am married to your sister, The Lady of Winterfell and I speak here on her behalf as much as my own."

"You think you speak for my sister?" Jon snarled.

"Your sister wants you to end this before it gets-." The Imp had climbed on to a rock so he could look John in the eye.

"Your marriage to Sansa is a power grab at best and a sham at wo-."

"Tyrion's right." Ayra whispered from the darkness. She'd been a couple feet behind them, but she moved slowly into the light of the fire. "He speaks for Sansa."

"Ayra." Jon snorted.

"She's happy Jon, have you been too busy trying to pacify your aunt's thirst for power that you haven't noticed?"

"Happy?"

"She refused the Moon Tea, so I'm going to go ahead and say she's made her choice." Ayra noticed that Tyrion's head had snapped towards her when she said that, she gave him a side glance, with a smirk.

"Arya!" Jon grimaced.

"Like it or not House Stark is now firmly in bed with the Lannisters." Arya stated boldly. "On that note. Ser Brienne will be arriving in the morning." She looked at Jon and then back to Tyrion. "I'd like her with me."

"So the decisions been made then?" Jon nodded his head.

"The decision was made the second that Daenerys told you not to tell us who you really were." Ayra stared at him in the darkness. "When you did so anyway."

He dropped his eyes to the dirt.

"I'm asking you to remember who you are." Ayra took a step towards him.

"Which?" His eyes are wet and conflicted when he looks at her. "Which part?"

"You are a Stark." She placed her hand over his heart and bore her large eyes into his.

"Your family has always tried to do what's right." The Imp reminded him.

"And where has it gotten us?" Jon mumbled. "Our mothers are dead. My father is dead. My brothers are dead." He winced heavily. "Or my Uncles. Cousin.." He rubbed his face trying to clear the confusion.

"Stop." Arya leaned forward in to him.

"All gone." He looked towards the sky.

"Well you're still here." Tyrion said softly. "And the rest of the realm is looking to you for what to do next."

"Jon?" He looked back at his sister. "You have to remember!"

"The North Remembers." He told her, his hand folding over hers, still pressed against his chest plate. A slow smile spread across her face. He looked at Tyrion. "Go to Flea Bottom and tell your brother we have a deal." Tyrion nodded, and Jon turned back to Arya gripping her shoulders. "Be careful."

"Always." She breathed, pulling him close before rushing away.

….

She arrived the next morning under Yara's protection. The Lady of the Iron Isles and Arya had already found themselves deep in strategy, a large paper map unrolled on the cold stone floor of the Dragon Crypt. Brienne had let herself feel the pride that they had already infiltrated the castle and Cersei was none the wiser.

"The rest of my fleet will follow me when Euron falls. I know they will." Yara was telling Arya confidently.

"Any that don't we'll feed to the dragons." Arya shrugged. "We just need Euron separated.

"When the child comes." Brienne knew Yara's whisper was for her, her cheeks reddened, as if she didn't know about the damn child. As if it wasn't half the reason she hadn't ridden directly into the throne room and sliced the bitch in two herself.

"We can access the Keep. I can come and go undetected, and we'll have our man inside this evening."

It's the mention of him that caused Brienne's impatience to become intolerable.

"If you don't mind it, My Lady I'm to accompany Lord Tyrion today."

"I don't mind it." She didn't look up from her plans. "And I'm no one's Lady."

"Thank you." She ignored the last part. "Lady Yara I'm grateful to you for my safe passage."

"Don't be too hard on him. He is a Lannister." Yara sighed. "You had to know what that meant.

"Yes." Arya looked up from the map for the first time. "Do remember we need your husband alive. Not unbruised though, if I do say so myself."

"I'll keep it in mind." She mumbled, three days of anticipation settling in her gut.

By the time she met Tyrion in Flea Bottom her anger is fresh again.

"Hello Dear Sister." The Imp greeted, attempting to fall in step with her. She forced herself to slow her stride. "How is my bride?"

"She misses you, My Lord." Brienne told him honestly. "More than she expected, I think."

"That's nice to hear." He sighed.

"And my stupid husband?"

"He feels properly horrible if it makes you feel any better." Tyrion mumbled.

"I'm not sure it does." Her words are clipped, her eyes scanning the streets for danger.

"You'll see for yourself soon enough." He sighed, stopping in front of a dirty pot shop.

"What the hell is he doing here anyhow?" She wrinkled her nose when she speaks, her eyes scanning over the crowd. She figured he'd yet to arrive and it makes her heartbeat increase with anticipation.

"It is the safest place for him to be until we're ready for him to be in the Keep."

"The safest place for him is Winterfell." Her tone was accusing, her eyes fluttering over the patrons.

"I don't disagree." He implored. "Why are you angry with me?"

"I'm not!" She growled, before swallowing hard. "I'm just angry."

"It's very scary." Tyrion grinned.

"I can't believe he's safe here. It's not like he can blend in." She grimaced. "He'll surely be recognized."

"You didn't." Tyrion told her gently, gesturing towards the back table.

He watched her confusion melt into realization as her eyes fell on the beggar in the corner, using his left hand to scoop what looked like human waste around in a bowl gripped in his right elbow.

"Wait here." Her husband's little brother gestured for her to stay as he approached him slowly. Brienne tried to stop her eyes from tearing, but it's no use, memories of him dirty, bound and battered at Harrenhall wash over her and she can't stop the bitter salty taste of tears in her throat.

…...

"Arya has set up camp in the Dragon Crypt." He tells his brother, leaning over him.

"And she thinks she'll be able to go undetected?" Jamie looked at Tyrion like he was insane from beneath his beggar's cloak.

"The girl has some pretty impressive capabilities." Tyrion shrugged. "You're not actually eating that are you?"

"You can only push it around the bowl for so long." He grunted.

"Dany wants to try and trade you for Melisande."

"She won't take it." He shook her head. "The only way she lets me in is if I come of my own. You know that."

"It was worth a shot." Tyrion shrugged. "We plan on telling her we never found you."

"And they let you tell me this?" Jamie tilted his head. "Am I too believe that they trust me? How do they know I won't tell Cersei and get them all killed?"

"About that." Tyrion took a deep breath, and looked over Jamie's shoulder. His brother stiffened afraid to turn around. "Your wife arrived this morning." He watched his brother's face pale as his head craned back. "I guess they figured you might not want to kill her."

"She.." He shook his head, trying and failing to pull his eyes off of Brienne to look back at him. "She cannot be here. I want her in Winterfell, behind a blanketed wasteland of ice and snow and at least two walls. Not in the bowels of the damn Red Keep."

"Seems she doesn't give a fuck what you want." Tyrion shrugged. Jamie rubbed his face, looking back at him. "It's not too late. Come with us. I can get you to Arya-." Jamie shook his head. "Fine. Do it your way, what do I know. Just be carefull. And don't forget to ring the damn bell."

Tyrion strode forward.

"He's all yours my Lady. I hope you have better luck than I've had."

…..


	12. Chapter 12

He rises when Tyrion leaves, partly because he doesn't know what else to do, and partly because it puts him at a strategic disadvantage if he's still in the chair. The bowl clatters to the table and when he meets her eyes the sadness there makes him look away.

"Why would you come here?" He asked harshly; in genuine amazement, swallowing hard and daring himself to look up again.

The anger floods back into her features and before he can react she strikes him. Her palm crashing against his cheek hard enough to send him stumbling back.

He winces, his tongue darts out and tastes the blood on his lip and he can't stop himself from flinching as her other hand rises.

She lets out a huff of breath her trembling hand pausing before his face. He takes her wrist in his grasp and pulls her arm forward.

"It's alright." He whispered to her, laying her palm against his face. "I deserved it."

"You damn well did." She forced out the words, her thumb trailing over his lips. He kissed the pad.

"I know." The gentleness of his voice made her heart ache. "You shouldn't have come here. I didn't want you to come here."

"I didn't want you to come here." Brienne's eyebrows pinched and Jamie wants to lean forward and press his forehead to hers, but he can't bring himself any closer.

"I know." He told her again in a tone that made her want to sob, instead she pulls her hand slowly away from his face, he follows her, unwilling to let his grip release her fingers.

"If Sansa would have given me that letter after you were dead, after I could do nothing to help you with this mess you've gotten yourself into-." She pulls her hand away. "I would have never forgiven you. I would have gone to my grave a useless old widow, a Knight of the seven kingdoms who couldn't protect the one person-." She stops, swallowing against the bile that has risen in her throat. "Is that what you wanted for me, Jamie?"

He titled his head at her in the way he always did when he couldn't find words strong enough to fight past the lump in his throat and she presses her lips so tightly they disappear completely.

He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted her to hear it from his lips before he's no longer alive to say it, but he knew it would be cruel now. He was dirty and dressed in rags, the disgusting smell of Flea Bottom wafting around them. He couldn't pull her to him here. He couldn't slide his hand down the side of her body and grasp her hip to his like he wanted to. He could only stare as she tried to fight the anger and sadness he can see in her pale face as she tried to keep the tight hold on her emotions that he's had the honor of watching fall away. She was desperately trying to with hold him that honor now.

So they stared, as they had so many times before, the words they can't say moving silently between them. He watched her shoulders lift in that resolute way that they did when she had found the strength to walk away or cast him out and he panics, grabbing frantically for her arm. He closed his eyes in relief when she doesn't pull away, stroking his thumb across her wrist rhythmically.

"Be careful." She begged him softly. "Please, Jamie.."

He loosened his grip and her fingers interlaced with hers.

"I will try." He met her bright eyes. "I swear it to you."

"Try hard." She whispered pulling her hand away from him and starting out of the pot shop. "I'm not done yelling at you yet."

Jamie couldn't help but smile as he watched her go.

….

When Arya Stark had asked him which of the Queen's Guard Cersei and Qyburn trusted the most he had not expected that meant the small girl was going to kill Ser Kilmen in one blow.

"Shit." He looked up at her, still buckling his Lannister Armor in place.

"Yeah… so you might want to look away for this part."

"What are going to do?" He grimaced in wonder.

"Cut off his face." She nodded back at him. "And then I'm going to wear it." Jamie Lannister made an involuntary gagging sound and Arya snorted out a laugh. "Like I said.."

He turned his face to the wall and waited.

"Okay." Came Kilmen's voice a few minutes later. Jamie turned slowly, his eyes fluttering from the crumpled faceless body to the fully alive man standing beside him. His mouth slid in to a sneer as he starred in horror.

"Jesus what are you?" He managed to choke out as she carefully folded her clothes like a highborn lady she was and returned them to her bag.

"I am No One." She sighed, with a shrug of Kilmen's massive shoulder. "Now you're going to have to get over this fast because we have work to do."

"Right." He gulped, wondering how anyone gets over what he just witnessed. He looked back at Kilmen's dead body before taking a few steps away.

"We strike now while the queen is giving birth."

"What?" Jamie's head whipped around to face her. "Now?"

"Don't make me doubt you Kingslayer." She growled at him with Kilmen's voice. "You say you want her dead."

"It's still my child." He answered numbly. Arya's eyes studied him from the man's face. Jamie was lost in a memory of holding his sister as she screamed their children into the world. He was cradling Myrcella, and tracing her rosebud lips with his right pinky finger. He was tracing Tommen's chubby cheek. He blinked heavily at the loss. "My only living child."

"I suppose it is." She whispered with just a hint of pity. "I'm going in with you to get you passed, then I'm going after Euron. We need his dead corpse to convince the Iron Born to follow their true Lady."

"Why don't you just use his face to have him bend the knee to her?" Jamie shrugged. "Or can you only use so many in a week or..?"

He watched with sick fascination as Ayra's small smirk appeared on the lumbering Knights rugged face.

"You're full of wonderful ideas, Kingslayer." She snorted. "Let's go."

….

"Come on Jamie." Tyrion stood his binoculars pressed against his face as he waited."Come on."

He grit his teeth, worrying his brother had underestimated their sister for the last time. He glanced back down at the shore. He didn't want to think about what his brother's formidable wife will do if he returned to tell her that her husband had failed. He was envisioning the different ways Brienne of Tarth would single handedly take down the scorpions and the entire Iron Fleet, when he saw the crack of light go up from the Tower of the Hand.

He sighed in relief as he trudged back down the rocky landscape to the entrance of the Dragon Crypt.

""They're in." He told the group assembled. Yara smiled at him before nodding to her attendant, who hurried to inform the queen.

…

Jamie Lannister sat in the hallway drinking with Euron Greyjoy and the fake Ser Killmen as his sister screamed and writhed a few rooms down. He wondered if Arya was poisoning the current expectant father who did not seem bothered that his child was arriving far earlier than was actually possible. Jamie wondered for a moment if Arya was poisoning him too. He looked at Ser Kilmen with mild reproach. The skinned face smiled sickly at him. He took another drink.

A particularly shrill scream erupted down the hall and Jamie pressed his head back against the wall. The room spun slightly when he looked forward again.

"Least you could do was be in there with her." He spit at Greyjoy.

"I've done the least that was required." The pirate slurred. "That's all I need to do."

Jamie grunted, pushing himself off the floor. Not Kilmen watched him carefully.

"I've heard enough." He mumbled, his body learching drunkenly down the hall. He could hear Not Kilmen take a step towards him. "I'm going to bed."

He glanced back at the men, looking deep into Arya's eyes as if he could tell her what he intended to do. She nodded in understanding as Jamie Lannister descended the stairs and kept going until he reached the bowels of the Red Keep.

Somewhere along the line he'd stopped and leaned heavily against the wall to catch his breath, to straighten his head and try to grasp onto any inch of sobriety he had left, but it was no use. He was drunk, exhausted and more than a little heartbroken.

…

She can hear someone breathing in the entrance to the cove that has become her bedchamber. As carefully as possible she reached for the small dagger that Tyrion had given her as a wedding gift, clutching the hilt under her pillow.

Her unannounced visitor lets out a staggered familiar breath and she let go of the dagger and sat up slowly in the dark. She could see him, back lit by the torch light in the hall.

"Are you hurt?" She whispered harshly into the quiet room.

He shook his head fiercely, leaning against the wall and staring at her. His barely contained sobs shook painfully in his chest. She winced at his bruised face and cut lip before slowly lifting the blanket around her with one hand while reaching her hand out to him with the other.

He pushed off the wall painfully slowly, dropping to his knees at her side. He was sobbing in earnest now and she pulled him into her chest. She could smell the wine on his breath as his hand came up and clenched itself painfully tight in her hair.

"Shhh.." She rocked him, shushing and soothing. Her hands sprawled out against his back as he burrowed deep into her neck.

"I need.." He whispered hoarsely, his throat raw. "Please."

"Jamie.." She lulled, pressing her lips to his ear, his neck, his temple.

"Forgive me." He cried."I need you, please forgi-."

"You know I will." She told him pushing him back slightly, holding him in her arms like a child, like she had in the baths at Harrenhal. "You know I always will."

"I can't do this." He told her weakly. "I can't do it anymore."

"It's alright." She laid him down carefully on the pillow and he lifted his lame arm pathetically towards her. She undid the laces and sent it skidding across the floor. He closed his eyes and tried in vain to compose himself and she methodically undid the clasps of his armor and pulled it from his body. Her hands slipped into the top of his tunic and she ran her palm over his chest in slow circles. Jamie brought his hand back up to her face as she dipped down to him and kissed the welt she'd left that morning. "I'm here now. I've got you."

"I need you." Sighed heavily, running his thumb over his lips.

"You need sleep, Jamie." She coaxed. "Close your eyes."

"I have to tell you." He breathed.

"I already know, my darling." She pressed her lips to his temple. "I know."

"I'm.. I.." He struggled sniffing in ragged breaths as her palms moved over his body trying to still him.

"Shh." She laid down beside him and pressed her cheek to the side of his face. "Slow breaths."

"You always hated it when I said that." He hiccuped, pulling back a bit and opening his green eyes into hers. .

"But I did it anyway because you were right." She smiled stroking his jaw as he slid his right arm under hers, grasping at her curved hip with his left hand. His eyes slipped shut and he stilled his breathing.

"I got drunk with Euron Greyjoy and a little girl with the face of a grown man." He mumbled. "While Cersei screamed."

"Shh.. sleep." She coaxed.

"I kept dreaming the Mountain would kill you." He suddenly found he couldn't stop telling her all the things he'd kept locked inside of himself.

"I'm safe. You're safe."

"I dreamt he bashed the baby's head in like Aegon- the first Aegon.- with the silver white hair." She moved her body as close as she could and he molded around her. "There was fire of blue and red and green and everyone burned. She burned them all, Margaery Tyrell, she-. Tommen couldn't-. I should have-."

"Sleep Jamie." She repeated before he could start again. She pressed her lips to his, and he met her with more eagerness that his body was capable of, whimpering when she pulled back. "Sleep."

His hand left her hip, pressing against her face as his green eyes opened into hers.

"I love you." He swallowed. "I know I don't deserve you, but I won't make it without you and I love you."

She smiled at him, slowly pressing her forehead to his.

"And I love you." She promised him. "Now sleep."

For the first time in a month Jamie Lannister slept dreamlessly through the night.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**

**It is what it is.**

**Deep breath, lets fix it, with some smut.**

**Also I love Dany. I do her dirty here because that's the direction my story took and I'm so very sorry to everyone who's as upset over her character arch as I am with Jamie's.. I feel your pain and I'm sorry this fic doesn't fix that. Maybe the next one?**

…...

Jamie opened his eyes slowly, he had no idea where he was, but the bed was hard as stone and his head ached.

Slowly, he remembered wine and Arya's face that was not her face. He remembered the screaming and the long dark halls, and then he remembered his wife.

Beside him, her warm body stirred, her long leg dragging across him awakening an entirely different part of his body. Their time in the North had made the heat intolerable to her, at some point she'd wiggled free of her clothes. He smirked a little at that. So far from the young woman ten years before that had slept in her armor for protection.

Jamie rolled on his side, pressing his palm into the leg and following it.

"You're still here." She whispered airly, her eyes still closed.

"Mmm." His fingers had found her hip and for a second he marveled at the way it fit so soundly in his palm. "There are only two times I truly miss my hand." He said softly. "When I'm fighting and when I'm touching you like this."

"I never thought you'd touch me like this again." She swallowed.

"I worried you'd never let me." He pressed his mouth to hers, then to her clavicle, then to her breast.

"Jamie they're right outside." She protested weakly, looking at the open arch way.

"It's early." His lame arm was slipping over her body and she followed it with her hand. "We'll be quiet."

"You can't be quiet." She reminded him even as she'd undone the clasp of his pants and was in the process of reaching for him.

"We don't have much-." He sucked in a breath as she circled her hand around him. "Gods."

"You have to be quiet." She reminded him, her blue eyes widening to match his as she stroked him. His teeth came down on his broken lip hard and he hissed at the way it tore open again. She wrinkled her eyes in mock sympathy before pressing a kiss there with a quiet comforting sound, grasping a bit tighter and stroking a bit faster.

"I can't-. You have to-." He murmured against her neck.

"You are in no position to tell me what I have to do, Ser Jamie." She purred at him, sliding her leg back up and over his hip.

"I beg your pardon My Lady." His voice faltered, and he groaned just a little, moving his hand from her thigh to her hand. "But we have slightly more time to spare than this allows for." He managed to free himself from her grasp and push her hand up over their heads, "I want-."

"What do you want?" She asked him, her other arm reaching back towards him. He dodged her attempt, sliding down her sweat slicked body and pressing hungry kisses against her stomach before moving lower. "Oh Jamie.."

He lifted his face just a little and smirked at her.

"Shh." He teased before going back to her body. She gripped the edge of the pillow with one hand and stroked his hair with the other while he listened to her staggered breath.

"Jamie.." She pleaded softly, trying to coax him away, but he would have none of it until her thighs shook and went limp around him. Her fingers lazily tangling and untangling in his hair and he lifted himself back up over her body. She rose to meet him, reaching for him again before molding her sex around his. Like a puppet with a cut string, his face fell into her clavicle with a whimper before he lifted his hand to the back of her head and kissed her firmly as they fought to control the rhythm and pace, until their bodies remembered how to work together. He growled against her shoulder and she clung to him.

She shattered again, and her soft cry is too much for him, he moans his release into her mouth before peppering her face with soft gentle kisses.

"I love you." He reminded her, incase she'd forgotten in the night. "I've missed you."

"Me? Or this?" She teased.

"All of it." He tells her breathlessly, taking deep sniffs of her hair, trying to fill his senses with her. "I've missed all of it."

The both knew he had to leave, but he pulls her back down to the bedding with him anyway, wrapping their bodies together.

He could feel her hands clenching and releasing his arms and he knows all the things she's trying not to ask of him; trying not to plead.

"Look at me." He touches her chin gently. "No matter what happens, I want you to remember this." He pulled her tight against him. "I want you to remember the morning we made love in the dragon crypt and I held you as close to me as I could. I want you to remember that I love you, and that there is no place else in the world I want to be more that in your arms."

"No." She touched his face, her eyebrows furrowing tightly. "Don't you dare say good-."

"Listen to me." He implored, his hand framing her face. "Please. Just listen to me." Her lips pressed closed. "I don't know where I'd be if our paths had never crossed. I don't know who I'd be. Probably upstairs watching my sister plot the deaths of thousands, wincing and saying nothing to stop it."

She pressed her face against his cheek and he held her head tightly to his.

"You found me and you dusted me off and you made me more." He swallowed hard. "You saw the broken parts and didn't look away."

"I love you." She sniffed.

"And I love you. I do. And I'd choose you." He gulped. "Again and again and again." He pressed his lips to hers. " But I have to go now."

She clenched her jaw to keep her protests from escaping as he pulled away slowly, touching his mouth to her forehead before standing up slowly and pulling his clothes back on. She rose, her beautiful alabaster body lit by the dwindling torch light, and helped him.

She let him kiss her throat while she did the laces up on his arm, before smoothing her hands over his armor and buckling his sheath around his waist. She rested her fingers on the pommel of Widow's Wail and swallowed hard.

"Come back to me." She whispered as he pressed his lips to hers.

"I swear to you, I'll try."

….

"The Army's are here." John whispered to Arya at the mouth of the Dragon's Crypt.

"Euron Greyjoy surrendered his ships to Yara this morning." She informed him proudly.

"What caused that change of heart?" Jon grimaced at her.

"More of a change of face." She smirked. "How's your queen?"

"She's not taking Melisande's death well." He sighed.

"I would suspect not." Arya took a few steps from the beach and turned to face her brother. "I don't think she takes failures very well."

"Does anyone?"

"When are you going to stop defending her?" Arya pinched her eyes tightly.

"She is my queen."

"She must be very good in bed." His little sister mused.

"That's enough." He rubbed his face.

"For you to trust her judgement over mine, over Sansa's and over Bran's." He looked away. "A woman you barely know."

"I know her better than you do." He sighed.

"I keep thinking about what Samwell told me when I asked him." She pushed herself forward despite the tightness of her brother's shoulders.

"What happened to the Tarley's-."

"He told me about Ygritte." Her voice was just loud enough to interrupt his defense. Arya watched his body flinch. "I'm sorry." Jon looked down. "I'm sorry I never got to meet her. She sounds extraordinary."

"I'm not going to do this." He shook his head dramatically.

"I know what it's like to try and fix the past." Arya nodded at him, before walking back to the Crypt entrance, she turned her head towards the black crow perched there, giving it a hard look. "But the past is already gone."

….

"Where were you?" Her voice dripped with venom and it almost made him turn around and walk out. He forced himself to glance at her, her body propped up and surrounded with pillows, glaring at him. He looked away. "Do you know how long I suffered with your child this time?"

"I thought it was Euron Greyjoy's child?" He said evenly, his eyes darting about the room. He glanced at the Mountain before looking back at his twin.

"I couldn't really let you have it after you abandoned me for the North and that.. Creature." Jamie's jaw clenched at Cersei's words..

"You wouldn't ever let me have any of them." He whispered.

"Maybe your cow wife will?" She shot at him. "Maybe she'll birth you a whole heard of little calves." He stood motionless, unable to stop the grimace that appeared on his face. "Or was Bronn successful?" Jamie moved his eyes away from her, gritting his teeth so tightly his jaw ached. "He couldn't bring himself to kill Tyrion, but your massive whore wasn't so lucky was she? Is that why you're back here? Which way did he do it?"

"The North is coming with the Dragon Queen to sack King's Landing and kill you. You thought I would stay in Winterfell?" He yelped.

"Did he use the peeler I sent with him?" Cersei sighed, Jamie looked away. "I've already killed one Dragon and one of her own. I'll kill the rest, without your help."

"And what then? You'll have Gregore here kill me and peel me while you watch?" He choked out the words, looking at her honestly for the first time since he'd arrived.

"You betrayed me."

"I betrayed you. Tyrion betrayed you. Tommen betrayed you." Jamie shook his head. "I came back for you, just like always." Her face softened and he felt something in his chest start to burn.

"Because nothing else matters." She finished.

"No." He whispered, his eyes wet.

"Bring me the baby. I want to show you." She smiled at him, that delicate smile that had always made the tension in him drain away. Jamie nodded.

The nursery was where it had always been. It was where each of his children had been nursed and weaned. It was where Joffrey had knocked over towers of blocks while Tommen and Myrcella rocked her fair haired baby dolls. He found his blonde haired infant in the gold, lion and stag decorated bassinet that his father had made, beside a young woman curled in a chair looking out at the pale sky, knowing war was on the way.

"Are you the wet nurse?" She nodded, and he leaned in whispering something to her. Her eyes widened before she stood and hurried off from the chair so quickly it fell over. The baby wailed and Jamie gathered it up quickly.

"It's alright, your father's here." He pressed his cheek against a fuzzy blonde head. "I'm going to take you to your Mummy." He promised, grabbing and extra blanket and hurrying out of the room.

…..

"Arya!" She shot up from her perch at Jon's yell and rushed out toward the beach. "Get your people out. She's heading towards the Keep, she's going to bring it down."

"She knows we're here." Ayra's mouth stayed open after she'd spit the words out and he gave her a pained look.

"She's not thinking clearly." He told her before pushing her back towards the cove.. "You have to get your people out of here."

Jon was shouting orders, Arya turned towards the crow before looking up into the sky just in time to see the roar of dragon fire.

…..

Brienne heaved the remaining supplies into the bag, looking back at Tyrion who was talking to Jon with animated gestures. She took a deep breath, swinging the bag onto her shoulder and turning just in time to come face to face with her husband.

"There she is." He whispered, looking down at the crook of his arm. "There's your Mummy. I told you we'd find her." Her mouth fell open and she took a hesitant step towards him as his hand reached out and grasped hers, pulling it to the blanket. "Your Mummy is going to get you the hell out of this doomed city. She's not going to let anything happen to you."

"Jamie.."

"Father has to go now." He told the baby shakily, looking up at Brienne as he let go of her hand and pulled the bag strap from her shoulder and settled the baby in her arms. "He has to help some people. Mummy's got you."

"Jamie, she's going to-."

"Take the baby to Tarth." He told her firmly, she opened her mouth and he pressed his own into it before she could speak. "You have to get someplace safe." He glanced over his shoulder at Tyrion and Jon, before nodding at his brother. "Make sure she goes."

Tyrion gave him a short nod.

"You can't go back-."

"I'll see you and Mummy in Tarth as soon as I can." He ignored her plea, pressing his face against the baby's head. "I love you." He slipped his eyes up to his wife. "Both of you."

Before she could say anything he had already started back through the tunnels. She turned towards Tyrion who took a heavy breath.

Jon grabbed the bag off the floor with one hand and grasped Brienne's arm with the other.

"Let's get out of here, you have a ship to catch." He growled.

"Jon, I have to move the fleet back before she fries us all!" Yara was yelling from the entryway.

"Do what you have to do." He called. "But we need safe passage to Tarth." He looked back at Brienne, then down at the baby. "Now."

Yara nodded, before turning and speaking to a small group of Iron Born.

"Jon!" Davos called from the entryway. "Daenerys is here."

Brienne could feel him stiffen at her side before Arya stepped between them, her hand moving Brienne the baby back towards Tyrion.

"This is what you're doing?" Dany said softly.

"We're trying to get our people to safety." Arya told her firmly.

"Your people, your Grace." Tyrion said softly. "Everyone here has bent the knee to you."

"Yet here you are, trying to smuggle out the heir." She looked at Brienne.

"I am taking my child home." Brienne said boldly, pulling the baby closer, freeing her other hand for Oath Keeper.

"So it can return in fifteen years time to usurp me?" She shook her head. "I won't allow it."

"You won't allow it?" Jon's voice was low. "What will you do?"

"The child must die." She said as a matter of fact, her fair face turning towards him.

"I will not allow any harm to come to this child, Your Grace." Brienne's hand gripped the hilt of her sword.

"The child must die?" Jon repeated back to her. "This child is no different than us! You and I were this child two short decades ago."

"Yes." She looked at him, her beautiful innocent eyes just a little too wide. "And look how that turned out. "Ser Davos?" She turned to look at him. "Kill the child."

Brienne's sword made a shimmering sound as. She pulled it from it's sheath. Arya's eyes darted from Jon to Dany and back again.

Her brother's hand rose towards Davos, palm open. He nodded back at him.

"If you will not,I will-."

"Burn us all?" Tyrion's voice rose as Drogon's snorting breath could be heard at the entrance of the tomb. Dany backed up towards her dragon.

"You're not thinking clearly." Jon told her, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Kill the child or everyone dies." She told him firmly.

"Jon." Arya moved forward as the black crow flittered over to her. "She's left you no choice."

"Drogon.." The young woman's voice was menacingly sweet.

"Jon!" Arya yelled pulling needle from her belt. Brienne turned her body to the wall and crouched, holding her sword above her head in an attempt to protect the infant from what was about to happen.

"Now!" Jon Snow yelled, raising his Valyrian Steel sword above his head with everything he had left. It was just as the four of them had decided in the Godswood of their home weeks earlier. Arya watched the crow scatter away before the Dragon before them started to writhe, seemingly at battle with itself.

"Go!" Arya yelled, towards Tyrion, who was pushing Brienne towards the entrance before her brain caught up to what was happening. "Bran may not be able to hold it for long!"

Brienne watched the Dragon take flight flapping and folding against itself like an injured bird. She watched Jon's sword come down and land in Danny's chest. Tyrion let out a gasping shudder before glancing back at Brienne.

The baby was screaming now and Brienne held it close to her and made another attempt to get to the door.

The crow returned to Arya's feet, moving cautiously around her. The girl looked back at the Dragon.

As if understanding what had occurred, Drogon seemed to settle fluttering softly onto the beach. No one moved.

"Your Grace." Tyrion's hoarse whisper rose above the din. Jon's crumbled face didn't move as his eyes shifted towards him. "We have to leave here."

"John you know you did what you had to do." Arya whispered soothingly as the shaking man let go of the sword.

"I know nothing." He told her slowly, his eyes looking up at her before darting to the baby.

"We have to go." Tyrion said evenly. "The Keep is unstable and the Dothraki and UnSullied-."

Jon gave a nod, stumbling away. Arya returned needle to her side before pulling Jon's weapon from the body.

"Bring her." He said softly to Davos, he gave a nod.

Jon walked towards Drogon, looking into the creatures eyes.

"Go." He told it softly. "Go." The dragon snorted at him, before rearing its head back with a roar before returning it's face to Jon. He reached out slowly, dropping his hand onto it's snout. "Go."

He watched the giant creature turn its face back to Dany's body before it took of to the sky with a start. It's wide wings gliding east.


	14. Chapter 14

The shore had become a flurry of disorder as supplies were frantically gathered and ships were launched. Jon stood motionless in the fray, backlit by fires of green and red. Arya and Yara were shouting orders while Tyrion Lannister attempted to push his sister in law towards the ship Yara had singled out for them.

"It's my fastest." She told him quickly before giving him a tight nod and returning to the chaos.

"Lord Tyrion!" An Iron Born was carefully guiding a young woman towards them. "She says Ser Jamie sent her. Says she's the wet nurse."

"Yes." Tyrion said softly, smirking at the man's confusion.

"He said I could bring my daughter." The girl whispered softly.

Brienne's head swung around to look at her, her raven black hair pulled off her face in two braided.

"Is she your only family?" Brienne asked, her voice hoarse. "Your only child?"

"The only one that survived." The girl whispered, looking down at her chubby toddler.

"Come." Brienne said quickly. "Come."

She returned her gaze back at Kings Landing, the air over it black. Her eyes clenched shut and she once again fingered the pommel of her sword.

"Tyrion." She whispered softly. "Take the baby."

"No My Lady." He whispered back. "I'm sorry but I can't allow you to do what you're thinking."

"By what authority-." She said stubbornly, her eyes never leaving the horrible sky.

"My brother needs you to live." Tyrion told her.

"I need him to-."

"He needs you to take your child and go from this place." Tyrion grasped her hand. "You are the one that restored his honor to him my Lady. Let him use it now."

She turned and looked at the other man, before looking down at the baby screaming in her arms.

"This child needs you." He continued softly. "Jamie's child."

Brienne touched the infants face before pulling the bundle to her throat, and pressing her lips to the tiny forehead.

"Come on My Lady." He coaxed, pushing at her hip. "You have to go."

She settled on the deck of the boat next to the girl and her daughter, Tyrion kissed her and the baby softly on the cheek before disembarking.

"What's your name?" She asked the wet nurse, her voice as formal as she could make it.

"Janali Waters." The girl whispered. "This is Amena."

"I'm Brienne." She looked back at the sky. "Ser Brienne of Tarth, wife of Jamie Lannister, Lady of Evenfall Hall and Casterly Rock."

"I didn't think women could be knights in this world." The girl said softly.

"This world has changed." She said simply, the baby's cries had quieted to a whimper almost as loud as the little girl in Janali's arms. Brienne looked the infant over carefully. "Do the need you to-?"

"No." She shook her head. "They're just scared. They just need us to hold them close. They needs their mothers." She pressed her head into her own daughters curls.

Brienne felt the tears sting her eyes as she laid the babe on her lap as she undid her armor, sipping it just far enough away from her body to fit the newborn inside.

"It's alright." She whispered, her fingers stroking the baby's tiny back. She whispered the words she'd whispered to Jamie not one day before. "I'm here. You're safe."

….

"If the bell rings the UnSullied will yield, but not the Dothraki." Tyrion told Arya urgently. "You should pull the Northern men back. We don't want them associated with this mess."

"They'll only listen to Jon." Arya shook her head wildly. "He's their king."

"He's all of ours King now." Tyrion sighed. "He's our only hope."

She walked towards him slowly, Bran's crow sat perched near his shoulder. Arya wished it could speak. She needed to talk to Sansa. Sansa would know what to say, how to push him. Instead she just stood there and waited for his eyes to move towards her.

"Tyrion says you should pull our men back."

"The unsullied will yield the Dothraki won't-." He repeated Tyrion's words.

"Our men Jon." She said sharply. "Remember!"

"The North Remembers!" He yelled back automatically.

"The North is all there is now. You are all there is now."

"Cersei-."

"Jamie Lannister has gone to kill her. The Hound has gone to kill the Mountain and the Kingslayer will add Queenslayer to his title. It is sibling against sibling here Jon, do you stand with us or not!" He turned his face towards her with a look of stunned betrayal. "I know what it's like to be No one. It's a lonely place." Her arm shot out and grabbed at his wrist. "You are a leader. A King. Lead now, Jon. Don't let father's sacrifice, Robb's sacrifice.. Rickon's, Theon's. be for nothing!" His face hardened and her eyebrows wrinkled tightly. "Winter has to end Jon." She pleaded. "Only you can end it."

He swallowed and she could see the fire reflected in his eyes before he gave a nod.

"Pull our men back!" He nodded to the Northern commander at his side, before he turned to Davos. "Get to Grey Worm, tell him that if the Dothraki don't yield at the bell they should take action to stop them."

"And what shall I tell them about their queen?" He asked calmly.

"Nothing." He shook his head. "Not until this ends." He turned back to his sister. "And if he can't ring the bell? What then?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "You're the King."

Jon couldn't help the sadistic laugh that bubbled out of him before he shook his head slowly as the Keep began to crumble above them.

…

"Light the left flank." Was the last thing Quburn said before the Hound killed him.

"You probably shouldn't." Sandor muttered to the young knight standing before him. The boy pulled his weapon and the other man turned to look at Jamie Lannister with an almost bored expression.

"I wouldn't do that." Jamie smiled. "It's not worth it." The kid looked conflicted. "Take off your armor and run before he kills you. There's no dishonor in not protecting a mad monarch."

He watched him hesitate before his sword clattered to the ground.

""No, Stupid take the sword, leave the armor." The boy grasped at the weapon while shaking off his breastplate and making a break for the door. "Tell your friends!" Jamie yelled.

"That was almost pathetically easy." Sandor snorted.

"It's what happens when you kill off all the good help." He gulped heavily as the building rocked. He reached for the paper the disgraced Maester had been holding and hissed at it before running into the hall and grabbing the arm of a passing servant.

"Ser Jamie." The man startled.

"Would you like to both live and become rich?" The man's eyebrow rose. "I need you to take this. Give it to the first Northerner you see. They'll be wearing furs even though it's hot as fuck out there. Tell them to take this to their king. Can you do that, or do I have to have Ser Sandor here kill you?"

"Give it to the furs." The man nodded.

"Tell them to find Tyrion Lannister, he'll pay you." Jamie pat the man on the back and turned back to the Hound.

"Where?" He looked around the map room.

"I'm guessing the nursery." Jamie said grimly, swallowing against the bile in his throat.

"Let me." The Hound told him with an unexpected gentleness.

"It should be me."

"Ring the bell." He told Jamie. "You be the hero. Let me be the villain."

And for the second time in his life, Jamie Lannister made a choice that wasn't his sister.

…..

Tyrion heard the bells as they marched to the Gate of Kings Landing, his eyes sinking shut for just a moment. They waited in the silence as the collective clink of swords hitting the ground filled the smoke filled air.

Jon gave him a wiry smile before nodding.

"You finally did something right you idiot." He whispered to his brother. "Now live."

"Lower your weapons!" Jon was yelling up the line. "Let them yield!"

Tyrion reached out to stop the small group of Northerners who remained with Jon.

"You are the Kings Gaurd now." He told them firmly. "Let him lead, let him be seen, but let no harm come to him." They glanced at each other before one of them turned back to Tyrion with a resolute nod.

….


	15. Chapter 15

**Two Months Later- Tarth**.

"Still no name?" Tyrion asked her, still staring at the child in his arms.

"I try something new everyday." Brienne admitted.

"Do you?" He laughed.

"I do." She smiled wistfully. "It seemed wrong. To do it without Jamie." Tyrion nodded looking up at her sadly, before looking back down at the baby.

"These are Jamie's eyes." He whispered. Brienne nodded, her lips twitching into a smile. "And Myrcella's little lips."

"I think that too." She sighed.

"Are you ready to hear it now?" Tyrion asked, his sad eyes meeting hers.

"I suppose if you're ready to tell it." She took a long slow breath steeling him with her icy blue gaze.

"When it came down to it, he let The Hound take down Cersei. He went for the bell." Tyrion smiled slightly at the idea that his brother was determined to save as much of the city as he could. "All those people are alive because of what he did."

"Was it worth it?"

"The south side of the city took the biggest hit from the Dragon fire, and the Green fire took a small portion in the center, but the rest of the city did not burn." Tyrion dropped his eyes to his brothers child. "I guess to some that would be worth it."

He took a breath and let it out slowly.

"There are reports of him leaving the tower, but not from anyone we know personally. Jon had the Northerners look, what was left of the Golden Army got a nice purse from Casterly Rock for their efforts, but..nothing." She looked towards the doorway as if she expected him to come through. "I wouldn't have stopped looking until I found a body. You know that. I was determined to bring him home to you. Until we found this…" He moved forward offering the baby up to her before he pulled at the long leather case he'd brought with him. Brienne was prepared for him to pull out the damn hand. She'd been thinking about what she would say if he tried to give it to her. How she'd stop herself from telling him where he could cram the damn thing, but then when the case was set on the table before her and he folded back the velvet lining her breath caught in her throat and all of her fury left her.

Widow's Wail glinted in the light from the window.

"I know he'd never leave it behind." Tyrion whispered. "It was his link to you. It was the way you two carried the other with you when you were apart."

Brienne lifted her child to her shoulder with one hand while she reached towards Jamie's sword, her fingers sliding slowly up the blade, peaking the guard and landing softly on the hilt. Her hand molded around it and she could almost feel Jamie's fingers close around hers.

"Thank you." She whispered softly, letting the tears slip over her cheeks. "For knowing what this means to us."

"Of course." He soothed.

"This is just as good as bringing a body home to us." Her voice broke and she carefully slid the sword to her lap, pressing a kiss against her infant's temple. "Better."

"Someday you can teach the next generation fo Lannisters to use them." He raised an eyebrow. She nodded, inhaling and exhaling in deeply.

"How is the King?"

"The work is slow, but it is continuing." Tyrion nodded. "He needs you back at his side."

"I told him by the coronation, I'll return to service. She nodded. "And from what she writes me Sansa feels she'll be able to head south by then."

"As long as everything goes as planned." He nodded, leaning again to look at the baby. "If the child born is healthy and she has recovered enough for a sail around Westeros, Uncle Tyrion will bring your cousin for a visit."

"Every summer." Brienne whispered Jamie's vision. "Please say you'll travel south to Tarth. When they're older they'll learn to swim in the sapphire water and sleep out under the stars."

"Jamie and I did that." He choked. "As boys, we'd sleep out under the stars and he'd make up stories about them. Always knights and swords and horses." Tyrion watched his brother's widow swallow back her sorrow. He glanced up as his man appeared at the door.

"It's time, My Lord." His attendant told him softly. Brienne wanted to hug him, but she couldn't seem to let go of the Valyrian steel settled against her knees. He leaned over it and she kissed his cheek.

"Take care, Dear Sister. " He said softly as he made his way out of the room and down the steps of Evenfall to the shore where the row boat to his ship waited.

He did not see see his brother's wife bring the pommel of the sword to her lips and press a kiss to it, nor did he take the time to consider the irony of her widow's wail as it drifted through the window into the wind that would finally guide him home to his wife.

…

**15 years later- Kings Landing**.

"I suppose we've gotten it all squared away then?" The Lord Commander of the Kings Gaurd lifted her head towards the irritated voice of the Hand of the King and gave her a droll look.

"We have." She ran her hand across the pages of the white book she knew by heart with such love Arya couldn't help but sigh. There was something about Brienne's heart sickness that had always made a part of Arya wish that she had become the Lady of Storm's End.

"And your replacement is well versed?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Temporary replacement!" Brienne corrected sharply, raising her eyebrow right back. "And yes. He is well versed."

"Not as well versed as you." Arya complained.

"I promise you this will be the last time." Brienne dropped a little bit of her official persona and gave Arya a pained sigh.

"I find the odds of that doubtful."

"Think what ever you want." Brienne shrugged.

"So." Arya smirked. "Kings Landing will see you next spring?"

"Yes. And I will see Arya Stark next week, correct? For dinner?"

"You will." Arya flashed her a real smile, and Brienne nodded making her way out into the court yard, pausing to watch the squires spar below her. The summer sun beating down against her gold cloak.

She smiled at the sounds of sparing swords clipped in her ears.

"Lord Commander." Came a warm voice from behind her.

"Your Grace." Jon joined her at the railing.

"She really is coming along." He said proudly.

"She is a Lannister." Brienne raised an eyebrow at him playfully. "It's in her blood."

"She comes by it naturally," The King told her with raised eyebrows. "From wherever it may come." Brienne snickered, but relented with a nod. "You have along trip ahead of you." He reminded her.

"I do, Your Grace."

"Safe travels Ser Brienne."

"Thank you, Your Grace. " She watched him look back at the little swords woman before walking on. "Lyanna!"

The young girl stilled her sword and pulled off her helmet, her pretty hair swinging loose.

"It's time to go."

…..

"Welcome home M' Lady." Brienne did her best not bristle as the residents of Casterly Rock greeted her as she and Lyanna arrived at the gate. Behind her, the girl tried not to snicker as she looked up for permission to depart. Brienne nodded at her and she ran off.

"Thank you Hammond." She said sweetly, as she pulled her shoulders up and handed him the reins of the horse. She continued to give sweet soft lady like smiles as she made her way to the main courtyard past the well and into one of the red capped towers.

Once inside she pulled her belt off and unsheathed Oathkeeper, setting it on the rest next to Widows Wail, pausing to touch the other blade. She tugged at her boots and shook off her travel armor and let it drop to the floor before she looked out the window at the Sunset Sea.

"Well. Well. Well." Came the thick melodic voice from behind her. She felt the tension of the trip ease off of her with just those words in his predictably teasing tone. "If it isn't the brave Lord Commander of the Kings Guard, slinking back home to the Rock after finding herself once again in the family way."

He moved his arms around her and she slid her own hands towards them as he kissed her neck.

"This is the last time, Jamie." She told him honestly, as his left palm curved around the small rise in her abdomen.

"You say that every time." He nuzzled his chin with his nose.

"I mean it every time." She reminded him sharply.

"I know you do." He chuckled lightly. "Your hair's gotten so long." He pressed his face into it.

"It's only been six weeks since you've left Kings Landing how much longer could it be?" She breathed. "It's just dirty from three days of rowing and riding."

"Please tell me you let Lyanna do most of the rowing."

"Mostly." She dropped more of her weight back against him before letting her head lull to the side. She loved the way his eyes still softened when they met hers.

"Liar." He pressed his mouth to hers and she kissed him with more hunger than he'd expected before pulling back and looking at him.

"You have your boots on." She noted, taking in their even height.

"I knew you were coming." He grinned.

"I missed you." She turned in his arms and kissed him again before pressing her face into his with a sigh.

"I've only been gone six weeks." He teased, before stroking her face with his thumb. "You're Just tired from all the riding and rowing Lyanna did." She hummed against him. "You should rest."

"I haven't seen my children." She whined, but he was already pulling her back from the window towards the bed. "Jamie."

"My brother and his unruly brood of fur covered, semi wildlings will be arriving tomorrow to collect their daughter; and the Lady Lannister of Winterfell will be after me like a direwolf if you don't look well cared for." He settled her on the bed, pulling back the blankets.

"The boys are out on the rock doing unmentionably dangerous things under the watchful eye of Ser Podrick and their much smarter cousin Lyanna." He went to basin and wet a wash cloth before returning to her side. She watched him quietly as he wiped it over her face and neck before undoing the strings of her top layer and kissing her collarbone.

"We'll see them at dinner and you can put them to bed with scary stories of the Night King and the undead." She reached her hand up and drew her thumb across his face. "And Ren will ask to see your scar because he always does, the gory little bastard. And you will show him and Tom will look away because he's very sensitive and Ty will roll his eyes because he's the oldest, he's sick of this story and he's _your_ son." Her lips flickered and he beamed at her. "I'm not sure young Jon has heard the story since he's been old enough to understand."

"Probably not." She said softly.

"But right now." He sat down on the bed beside her and slipped off his boots with a comfortable ease that the years had given him. "You're tired." He touched her temple with his lips. "And your back is sore. I can tell by the way you're holding your shoulders." She sighed as he pressed her towards the matress. "And we have yet _another_ child to think of." He skimmed her waist with his right arm and she slid her hand up it as he joined her. "I haven't held you in my arms in six weeks and I would very much like to."

She breathed a heavy sigh as he pulled them together. Her leg wrapped over his hip, forcing him closer.

"Where did I even find you?" She breathed airily, watching the edges of his lips quirk up as he tilted his chin up to kiss her forehead.

"They say the best husbands are found bound, dirty and foul mouthed on dungun floors." He teased. She kissed him in agreement.

"I did miss you." She told him her eyes slipping shut.

"I'm glad your home." She almost argued that Casterly Rock was far from home. Home was Evenfall. Hell, home was King's Landing, but she realized as she pressed her face into the curve of his neck that there, in his arms, that was the only home she'd ever really had.

...

**A/N: This was the first chapter of this fic that I wrote. It was supposed to be the last and it was supposed to end at the first break, followed by a note saying that I would post a 15 year fix to my own fic for anyone that needed a different ending, but let's face it we all need a different ending. So I added it here it's attached here. **

**Also: I have stubbornly continued writing little one shots from this universe. I will post them here after the official ending. They won't be in any particular order, just snippets of life. I will identify their place in the timeline at the beginning of the chapter. If anyone has requests for what they'd like to see I may be willing to oblige. **

**Thank you for reading xo**


	16. Chapter 16

_**Two months after Jon's Army Liberated King's Landing- Part One.**_

_**(I have switched to present tense here, most of my one shots are in that tense, due to how quickly they seem to appear in my head.)**_

…...

She'd taken to calling the baby Ty. Mostly because she is tired of people asking his name and not having an answer. She's still not sure what it stands for, but Samwell Tarly had sent her a extensive Lannister Family Tree that had been littered with Tywin's Tyricks, Tyrion's, Tyrels, and handfuls of others.

She figures she'll decide on one at some point. She writes to Winterfell and Tyrion writes back with tales of the other Ty's helpfully and some days she looks for the traits from those stories in her son.

Her father is beside himself with glee that he can now properly introduce his sweet heir and she finds it more endearing than she'd expected. She had thought she'd feel guilty, lying about the boy being his true born heir, but she's not. She loves this child as much as she thinks she possibly could love anything, and pretending she's carried an birthed him is so simple she thinks it true.

When people ask about the ease of his delivery she says it was a long night, but a lovely one, and when they ask her about the first time she saw him she smiles and says she was shocked when Jamie put him in her arms, and she knew she'd do anything to protect him.

_Stay close to the truth. _Tyrion had told her._ It's the only way to keep the story straight._

She created the story from truth and therefore I had become just that.

He was born in the Red Keep.

They'd spent the night in the Dragons Crypt.

Jamie had held her. They'd both cried.

He came just before the Dragon Queen.

Jamie had laid him in her arms and rushed off to stall the battle.

Tyrion had helped her get away to Tarth.

Jamie had given his life.

It was all true. Every sentence. How could she feel bad for what she'd left out?

She rarely calls him by his name. She'd taken to calling him her Brightstar because that is what he is to her, her light in the darkness. She refuses to admit that part of her thinks she wouldn't have survived without him. That she would have given into the exhaustion and despair if not for the tiny pair of Jamie's eyes looking up at her from her arms. It's not very Noble and it's not very Lord Commander of the King's Guard to admit she envisioned more than once throwing herself from the tower of Evenfall Hall, but she has. She has clutched the baby to her neck and bathed him with her tears more than she cares to admit. She promises herself not to turn into Lysa Tully, she'll stop before he's old enough to understand, but she suddenly isn't as judgemental of the woman as she might have been before.

She thinks it's unbecoming of a member of the King's Guard, moreless the Lord Commander, to think that if anything happens to her baby she'll simply walk into the Narrow Sea and die. She wants to send a raven to King Jon and tell him that he's made an error, that he should choose someone else,

However, a raven arrives from Jon instead.

_His majesty, King Jon commands that you present yourself to the River Gate immediately. A ship has been dispatched and will arrive post haste_

It's official, in Arya's handwriting, below it Grand Maester Tarly has scribbled. _Bring the baby. I'll meet you personally._

Yara herself comes to collect her the next morning.

"For how long?" She asks the other woman cradling her two month old and ushering Janali and Amena ahead of her.

"As long as it takes I suppose." The mistress of ships tells her cryptically, helping pull her aboard her fastest ship.

..

She can see Sam Tarly and his wife as they pull into port. As soon as the plank is set the chubby fellow is already mounting is horse and his adorably pregnant wife has opened the carriage door.

Gilly is upon her immediately, moving down the path and attempting to grasp Ty from her, nodding for the rest of her party to load the vehicle.

"Go with Sam. I'll take him." She coaxes. Brienne looks at the Grand Maester.

"I'll explain in route." He says impatiently.

"You'll explain now." Brienne tells him, suddenly feeling a jolt of her status. It's as if King's Landing itself has awakened her former persona from the haze she's been swimming in.

"It's not safe to speak out here."

"If it's unsafe then my child stays with me!" She tells him firmly.

"Sam?" Gilly whispers, the man nods at his wife and she leans in. "They've found him."

"Found wh-?" Her question suddenly dies, and the other woman's face turns soft, comforting. Jamie. Brienne's brain registers what this is. They've found Jamie, or what was left of him anyway.

"Go." Gilly says, grasping her baby again and pulling him from her arms. "Go on with Sam."

Someone is helping her onto a horse, she looks at the Maester who gives her a nod and a soft smile she doesn't feel she deserves. She follows.

She meant what she told Tyrion, that having Widow's Wail was better than having his remains. She doesn't need to see him, two months dead either.

There is a particular cold that settles into her, it's lodged itself into her body with with some finality.

"Gilly is taking the baby to Arya." Sam tells her at some point. "He'll be safest with her."

"Safe from what?" She dares to ask him as they ride along the edge of Visenya's Hill she sees the damage to the center that Tyrion told her of. It's not as well repaired as the south side, but wildfire is harder to contain and clean up from than dragon fire. It was Jamie who told her that, she thinks. After one of his nightmares at WInterfell, in the beginning, when he was still telling her about them.

When Sam doesn't answer she looks at him, and he waits. Nodding when he sees the recognition dawning in her eyes. Safe from those who might suspect what he is. This isn't Tarth, and although her armor provides a legitimate sense of the unknown, she was never visibly pregnant. Cersei was.

She looks at the bell tower and is almost surprised it's still half standing, it looks like it may crash at any moment. She adds it to her list of things that must be dealt with. Things she must take to Jon. She'll tell him she wants it down. Tyrion will probably commission a statue. She'll deny the request, or beg Arya to, she's not sure who's job that is. It strikes her how quickly she has become all business since they pulled her baby from her arms. He mind has already gone to another place.

Her husband is dead, and her baby cared for, Brienne has on a gold cloak and she's riding horseback through the crumbled city. Examining it, like that is why she's here. Not to view her husbands decaying corpse. She swallows down the sickeningly bitter heat that fills her mouth with that thought.

They stop at the West Watch and a small group is clustered there. She recognizes Bronn and for a second she envisions she has a cross bow and she shoots him on sight. Why Tyrion took pity on him she'll never understand.

"Lady Lannister." He greets her, steadying her horse as she disembarks, landing on the dirt with a satisfying thud. She spins on him, giving him her full height and all the power that comes with it. She watches him flinch back, just a little, as he tries not to shrink away.

"You will address me as Lord Commander." She tells him angrily. "While you still have a tongue."

He sneers at her, like she is the cold blooded beast that she feels like, giving a nod.

"You're welcome then." He says as he stomps off before she can snap that this is nothing more than a formality. Nothing more than the last act of a widowed warrior whose heart has already frozen. Her body is icier than Winterfell now. For a second she feels a pang of regret for her beautiful bright star that his mother will be an empty cold hearted shell.

_Irony or fate? _The words ring through her in Jamie's voice and she presses her jaw together as tightly as she can. Sam's hand is on her back as they walk past two more gold cloaks who mutter 'Lord Commander' as she approaches. She thinks it's a bit much as the ascend the steps to see yet another guard at the top of the stairs. Ceremony be damned, it's just a body. Who would want to steal a dead man's bones? Even his.

Sam nods at the woman who opens the door as they speak softly. Brienne's impatience grows. The room is nice, cool,crisp and full of cleanliness. It's a place she wouldn't care to tarnish with a body. Her eyes flitter about before the land on the bed in the far corner and-.

Jamie.

Jamie, just as she last saw him. Thinner. Paler. But Jamie just the same.

Her mind tries to fathom how his body could possibly be so preserved two months dead when Sam removes her cloak and begins to rattle off a list of injuries and ailments as if his words should make sense, or even matter.

It's only when his body takes a particularly staggered breath and she watches his broad chest shake at the effort that it dawns on her. He's alive.

The heat floods back into her so quickly she stumbles. Sam's hands grip her, but he says nothing. A barely contained whimper makes its way to her throat and the next thing she knows she's dropped to her knees beside the bed.

Her hands shake as her fingers explore the outline of is face and the deep purple of the healing bruises there. There is an ugly gash beneath his collar bone that is so freshly treated their is specks of red blood on the white bandage. Bright red, the type reserved for the living.

She can't fathom this; the feeling that life had slowly drained from her over 60 days, the feeling her heart finally close in on the trip over and now everything has returned too quickly. It's suddenly an overwhelming onslaught and her brain simply can't figure it out.

Then his green eyes flick open and turn to her lazily and she lets out a strangled painful sob. His brow wrinkles and a hoarse whisper comes from his raw throat.

"Why are you crying?" He asks her with confused concern and she cries harder. He slowly pulls his hand to the one resting on his cheek now and runs his thumb across it. "Slow breaths." He coaches her and everything in her shatters and reunites. She presses her sobbing face gingerly into the crook of his right arm as his fingers continue to stroke. "Shh, slow breaths."

"Shut up." She whimpers against his bound ribs and he huffs out a careful laugh.

"That's better." He sighs, his body going slack again and he slips back under.

"Jamie." She breathes softly against his skin, a haze of palpable relief building in the room. "Jamie."

His thumb twitches against her hand his lips push nearly imperceivable against her thumb as she takes slow short breaths to calm herself.


	17. Chapter 17

**Two months after Jon's Army Liberated King's Landing- Part Two **

….

"How?" Brienne asks, her back pressed up against the wall, her armor discarded in a pile at the entryway her left hand still gripping Jamie's upper arm, her eyes never leaving the uneven rise and fall of his chest.

"He was in a mission house in Dunksondale. No idea how he got there." Davos rubs at his face. "The best guess is some Dothraki or UnSullied that had be separated from the main group and didn't know what the hell was happening found him half dead on the street, recognized him from Winterfell and took him along.

"He was probably forgotten when they heard about Daenerys." Davos sighs. "Thankfully he was too beaten up for anyone there to recognize. The more he came around the more he started talking. The less he made sense that he was some unfortunate smithy from the Street of Steel. One of Bronn's new girls arrived with a story about a one handed war victim who cried out in his sleep. Your name came up and Bronn thought he'd better go check it out."

"I guess that's what he meant by 'you're welcome.'" Brienne rubs her shoulder with her free hand. "He always did have a soft spot for Jamie, right up until he threatened to kill me."

Davos makes a snorting sound.

"Have you gotten word to Tyrion?"

"No one can know right now." He shook his head slowly. "He can't head south right now anyhow, not with the snow queen so close to her time. He'll find out in the spring."

"If he lives." Samwell Tarly interjects from his makeshift desk. "He still has to live."

"He's going to live." Brienne snaps, her face sharp. "I haven't gone through all seven hells to let him die."

"As you Command it Ser Brienne." The Grand Maester breaths.

"Speaking of people who are close to their time. Shouldn't you go home to your wife and child?"

"You'll find Lord Commander, that just because we are now allowed to have families while in service to our new king doesn't mean we have time to have them." He raises an eyebrow.

Brienne lays her head back against the wall again, her fingertips sliding up and down Jamie's stunted arm.

"Can he be moved?" She asks quietly. "Will it hurt him?"

"What do you mean? Just in the ways I showed you earlier."

"No. Not.. physically turned. Can we move him, to the Keep?"

"My Lady-." Sam is shaking his head.

"I don't think that that's in anyone's best-." Davos talks over him.

"I'm not asking your input for security matters." She puts her hand up to the onion knight. "Either of you, that is of my concern as granted to me by King Jon. I'm asking you as a wife to a Maester. Can he be moved?"

"He can." Tarly tells her, his wide eyes taking in hers. Brienne nods soundly.

"Thank you Maester Tarly." She looks at Jamie, his face relaxed from whatever herbal haze Samwell has concocted for him. "If the two of you don't mind I'd like to be alone with my husband."

…..

"Brienne?" She wakes with a start and finds his cat green eyes unblinking, inches from her face. She sucks in a quick breath before letting her own sink back shut.

"Jamie." She answers him once her body has calmed.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"The bed is small and you're badly bruised." She blinked at him, he wrinkles his forehead, but accepts her information.

"Where the hell are we?"" His usual disdain for the unfamiliar floods his voice and she can't help but click her cheek at his arrogance, even though it makes her body feel lighter.

"The West Watch." She tells him, reaching out her hand and laying it lightly on his cheek. He's clammy, but his skin is cool, she glides her thumb across it. No signs of infection. That's number two on Sam's list of concerns. She's written them down, along with how to prevent them, detect them and how best to treat them.

"Why?" He grimaces, and she knows it out of confusion and not pain. That is a different grimace. She's held him dehydrated, feverish and dying. He's none of those things now.

"Where would you rather be?" She asks him, tiring of explaining all the pieces only to have him forget them the next time he wakes.

"Anywhere but King's Landing." He sounds disgusted. "I hate it here."

"You've always seemed in a pretty big hurry to rush back." She sighs, hauling her tired body up off the floor before gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yes." He squints. "Why was that again?"

To fuck your sister, my love. She thinks in her head, but Cersei is too large of a topic for them to broach now. The stab of anger that his sister's name brings her is so quick and unexpected she feels guilty afterward, she leans towards his hand that has started to weakly rub at her arm and kisses his fingers. Jamie grips the nape of her neck and she lets him kiss her before pressing her forehead against his chin and closing her eyes.

"You should lie down." He tells her with such gentleness it makes her want to cry.

"You're hurt." She reminds him, her hands easing gently over his battered body.

"I'm very confused." He announces, his voice full of concern. He is, and it scares her too, but he's never once woken up and not whispered her name, so he obviously knows she's come. Unless he's been doing that for the last two months unanswered. That makes her throat feel tight. Bronn's girl had spoken her name.

"It'll pass." She forces the words out.

"Are you sure?" He asks her, studying her face. She nods. He moves uncomfortably on the bed and her hands flutter to him.

"Be careful." Brienne helps him hold himself off of the pillows as he moves ever so slightly towards the wall. "What are you doing? You can't get up."

"I'm not." He swats at her hands. "Help me."

"Help you do what?" Jamie winces at her and her hands ghost over him.

"Turn." She braces his body as he moves and adjusts his legs accordingly. He grits his teeth, but still manages to sound satisfied. "There."

"Better?" She asks running one hand down his body while the other stroked his long hair. He takes slow short breaths, like he's talked her through a dozen times and she wonders where it ever came from. She tries to file it away in things she'll ask him when he's more himself. She won't let herself think that their won't be a time when he's more himself. She can't think that way.

"I'm fine." He says softly. "Lie down."

Her shoulders soften, and he looks at her like if she doesn't obey he'll figure out how to make her, so she slips carefully against the blankets.

"I'm fine too." She tells him. His eyebrow slants down towards the bridge of his nose.

"You're not a good liar." He blinks at her. "You need to be held."

"What?" Her voice is spills out of her in a high soft murmur.

"I know that look." His hand comes out and grips her upper arm, giving it a tug.

"Jamie."

"I can't move to you. You're going to have to come to me." He tells her breathlessly.

"I-." She shakes her head but he keeps pulling until she relents and inches closer to him until there isn't any space between them, but she can't bring herself to put any weight on his battered torso at all. His thumb is on her cheek, stroking slowly. "Jamie."

"I'm confused." He repeats. "But I know something big's happened. I can see it in your eyes."

"Something big's happened." She tells him, feeling the first pricks of new tears start.

"And you're very worried." She lets her eyelids lower moving her face forward until their foreheads meet and she can feel his nose against her own. "And tired. And you need me to hold you."

She huffs at him, sniffing back at fresh onslaught of tears.

"I still can't believe your here." She whispers.

"Where did I go?" He asks softly and she decides she'll say Dunstondale but before she can his breath hitches just a little and he mutters out the word. "South." She meets his eyes. "Tell me."

"I don't think that's a good idea. You're properly injured." She reminds him. "If you were any other man you'd be dead."

"Thankfully then, I'm not any other man." She is unbelievably thankful. "We were in Winterfell." He squints. "To fight the dead. And we.." He looks at her his eyes soft. "Married." He has a level of amazement in his voice, like he knows it's true but still can't quite believe it. "I went south." He's piecing things together, slowly, carefully. "And you-." He blinks at her. "You slapped me! Why did you-?"

"Because I love you." She told him.

"I love you too." He says like it's an involuntary response when she says it that he must repeat it. Then he leers at her. "I showed you that, at the Dragon Crypt and-. And then.."

"And then." She stills, she doesn't want to to think about what came next.

"The baby?" She can feel his heartbeat increase against the hand she has sprawled against his chest. "Is it-?" She smiles then, a real spontaneous smile.

"He's glorious." She tells him, tears rushing back into her eyes so quickly he blurs in her site. His left hand comes up and brushes them away. "My little Brightstar."

"A boy?" She sees his wonder and nods again.

"You didn't know?" His head shakes.

"I don't think so. I just remember grabbing him up and rushing him to you. I don't think-." He stops and she watches a stream of emotions slip over his emerald green eyes.

"She's gone." Brienne supplies for him. "The Hound. I don't know more, Tyrion might."

He clasped his hand around hers.

"I don't want more." He told her softly, bringing her fingers quickly to his lips then back to his chest.

"What happened after you left the Hound? Do you remember?" She's forgotten she was being soft with him now. She's forgotten his confusion; the head injury Sam's worried about, how his body looks like a thunderstorm sprawled out across his torso and that he's been dead for two months.

"I.." He pauses and she pushes her fingers up to lock between his. "I rang the bell, and then the tower came down." He looks at her with a raised eyebrow. "A tower fucking fell on me.. i think."

"Only half a tower." She shrugs. "The other half is still standing."

"Well that's slightly less impressive." He japes and her face lights up.

"Only slightly."

"That's it." He says softly. "That's all I remember. Till Bronn was yelling, shouting out orders and then the fat little chainless Maester was all over me and then you." He looks at her softly. "Then you."

"That's Master Of Whispers Bronn and Grand Maester Tarly to you, My Lord."

"What idiot did that and still remained on the Iron Throne?"

"That rellic is long gone. Jon is king." She smiles.

"Not as Aegon Targaryen?" He raises an eyebrow.

"No. Just Jon." She sighs. "King Jon. He's doing quite well."

"Long gone.." He wrinkled his brow. "How long?"

"A while." She smiles at him sympathetically. "They called off the official search a month ago."

"A month?" He looks at her in disbelief.

"A month since they stopped looking. It's been two months." Her resolve is cracking before his eyes and he doesn't know if he should stop it, or push it along. In the end he has not his choice. Her words are hopping from her mouth and rolling down a hill. "Tyrion pushed them to keep searching." She shook her head and it all pours out of her. "But then they found your sword and he felt it was time. He brought it to me in Tarth and just like that you were dead." She took a quick staggered breath. "You were dead and I held our baby and our swords and I tried to-." He grunts as he raises his lips to her forehead and presses them hard, his lame arm pressing against the back of skull. "I tried not to-." She gulped and he moved his lips between her eyes. "Not to throw myself out of the damn tower window and Jon sends me a raven and makes me Lord. Fucking. Commander." He closes his eyes and listens to her rage. "And I just wanted you. I'd become some stupid widowed highborn lady afraid to face the world without her husband."

"What have I done to you?" He sighed deeply. "My poor darling." He plants kisses on her face, making sweet coo's like she does to the baby when he whines. "My brave protector. What did I do to you?"

"You lived." She whimpers softly. "You lived for me. "

…

"-something for the pain." She awakens slowly, his hand is still holding hers.

"And I have told you no." Jamie sighs.

"You cannot be comfo-." He cuts the maester off.

"It makes me cloudy." He tells him. "I don't want to be cloudy anymore. Besides it says here in the Lord Commander's notes, in each of her well outlined doomsday scenarios, that increased pain is a very important warning sign. How am I to know what is increased if I don't even know what it's increasing from."

"Ser Jamie-."

"It's no use arguing with him when he's like this." Brienne says sleepily from where her head is pressed against his thigh. She glances up at him, propped against the wall looking miserably uncomfortable and alive.

"You should listen to my wife." He says pointedly.

"You should also listen to your Lord Commander. We're going back to the Keep." She decides, pulling back the blankets. "You need to be with your bride Maester Tarly and I need my son and a bigger damn bed."

Sam nods at her and she turns back to Jamie.

"But My Love, I will suggest you take his pain elixir because the safest way to get you out right now is in a pine box." Jamie winced. "Until I have a handle on how you will be received in this city it's best no one knows you aren't a pile of bones long promised to Tormund the Giantsbane for his gnawing pleasure."

His mouth slipped into a smile as she stretched.

"I'll make preparations." She pulled the door open and the Gold Cloak at the door turned to her at once. "I'll need someone to ride ahead and let damn Master of Whispers know I'll be needing his counsel." She left it open, pulled her cloak from where Sam had hung it three days earlier and cast a glance at her armor before leaning in and pressing her mouth to Jamie's. "And someone needs to get me a bloody squire."

He listened to her yell as she shut the door behind her. Sam looked properly startled.

"She used to be quite shy in public." Jamie grinned. "I can't put my finger on when that changed."

"Winterfell." Samwell shrugged. "When you arrived at Winterfell."

He sees her in the great hall, defending his honor as he had guarded hers years before. He looks at Sam who smiles back the smile of a man who knows what it's like to be steadily loved.

…..

He's looking at the box like it's maybe the worst thing he's ever seen and it makes her think maybe she's been too brash.

"You don't have to." She tells him softly and hates it when she uses that voice all armored up. It doesn't make sense, that voice is for when she's naked and wrapped soundly in his arms. "We can change the plan."

Sam sets down the elixir he's making and takes a step back out of the room.

"I can do it." He says hauntedly before clearing his throat. "I'll be fine, it's a twenty minute thing. The fat little maester is going to drug me."

She can't sit comfortably on the bed in all her metal, so she kneels before him as he perches on the end of the bed.

"You've had a very long few days." She tells him, taking his hand in hers and running her thumb across his jaw. He leans in and she realizes just how hard it is for him to stay upright like this. She puts her hands against his torso carefully providing him some balance as he leans his head against hers.

"You've had a very long few months." He tells her, raising an eyebrow over one sad eye. "It's twenty minutes."

"Still."

"I want to meet my son." He sighs, watching a flicker of a smile cross his features. "I'd like to bend the knee to my new king and I'm going to need you there to help me get back up afterward."

"If there was another way to get you out safely.."

"You'd have found it." He breathed heavily, and she could feel his chest ripple with spasm. "I trust you." He grunts.

"Lie back." She told him softly, cupping his head with her hand and trying to help him brace himself as she lowered him to the mattress.

"You weren't kidding about being properly wounded." He winced. "Sitting up feels like a battle itself."

"It will get better." She told him, her palms pressing against the cramped muscles of his chest and sides.

"Are you sure?" He cracks a tightly shut eye to see her nod.

"I'm going to get Sam, you take the drink and then we'll do this when your sleeping."

He nods back at her but as she starts to stand his hand grips at hers and she's right back at his side for a few more minutes until his fingers unclench.

"Okay now?" He opens his palm and she stands and fetches the Maester. "Let's go home."


	18. Chapter 18

**Five and one half years into King Jon's Reign- Part One**

**(a piece of this is based off of a lovely cartoon by fawnilu where Jamie is playing with his children. I hope she doesn't mind that I borrowed her idea) **

….

Jamie took a heavy breath, this was not good at all.

"Look, I know your mad bu-."

"I'm not mad." She shoot back at him, her eyes never leaving the schedule she's been studying the entire time he'd been standing in the doorway.

"Oh." He sucks in another breath, tilting his head to the side. "You're mad."

"I've told you, that I think this is an over reaction." She shakes her head. "Just because some Essos arse of a king, or whatever inane thing they call their monarch, makes a disparaging remark about Sansa it has to set off some intercontinental feud and we have to mark his perhaps innocent visit with an outrageous show of military might?"

"I've told you, I don't disagree." He reminds her.

"I think we're risking over inflating this, it may look threatening. I'd rather not threaten our potential new enemies." She taps her pen on the edge of her paper, leaving angry holes.

"I know. And If i would have been in the small council with you I would have backed you up, but I wasn't." He moves forward a few steps. "And I am assigned to Arya Stark and even though Arya Stark is a better fighter then I have been in a over a decade, I have to go North with her."

"The King's hand has no business riding North for a diplomatic meet and greet. They are letting their feelings for Sansa cloud their judgment." She grinds her teeth hard enough to make him wince.

"I know." He tells her kindly. "But my brother and his children are also up there and I have to say I understand it."

"I understand as well, Jaime!" She shoots back at him. He watches her had clench into a fist, why was she so upset about this?

"Darling-." He sighs heavily.

"If you could refrain from calling your Lord Commander silly pet names while in her office I would appreciate it."

Jamie wet his lips with his tongue before continuing, taking another small step towards her. She's far too upset about this and he's struggling to come up with a way to calm her.

"I remember quite fondly that some of our most early intimate conversations were in this office." He breathes moving towards the window. He grins, hearing her shift in her chair behind him. "I gave you that sword on your hip in this office."

"I would think we've had more intimate moments since then, Ser." The anger is gone from her voice, but the tension remains.

"I don't know." He hums, with that cocky Lannister vibrato that he knows makes her roll her eyes, but it also stirs something in her. "That was basically a declaration of my undying devotion back then. Maybe the first actual courting I'd ever done in my life." He turns, watching her lips flutter in an attempt not to smile. "Little did you know.."

"I knew." She tells him, her shoulders dropping. He opens his mouth but a knock at the door has him closing it just as quickly. "Come."

Jamie squares his shoulders up as Ser Podrick enters the room.

"Sers." He looks at Brienne. "You called for me?"

"I did Pod. You'll be going North."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'd like you to lead." Jaime appreciates his wife's ability to get to the point, he further appreciates the look of terror on the young Knights face. He swings his glance at him and the older man gives him a little nod.

"But My La- Lord Commander, Ser Jaime-."

"Will be right at your side to provide counsel if you are in need, but his main concern is the Hand of the King. Yours will be my men. Do you understand?"

"Yes Ser." He gave her a swift nod.

"If it is decided by Lady Arya that we will engage then you will engage, until that point you will keep my ranks under control. Do you understand?"

He shoots his eyes to Jaime who offers him another nod.

"Yes Ser."

"Good. Dismissed. Both of you." Jamie rolls his eyes at her.

"Can we please finish this discussion?"

"I'll be home in a few minutes." Brienne glares at him.

"As you wish, Ser." He huffs making his way out of the room.

"Pod." Her voice is so soft he almost doesn't hear it in the hallway. "A moment."

"Yes Ser?"

"If.." It's the softness in her voice that makes him creep back towards the room to listen. "If you do engage…"

"I wouldn't do so with out Ser Jaime's advising."

"Ser Jaime-." She pauses. "When I said you'd be at his side-."

""I'll count on his counsel-."

"If you would make it his left side.."

"Ma'am?"

"He still.. Overcompensates. He feels more vulnerable on the right so he tends to-." Her reluctance to talk about his weakness warms him, he can feel the smile pull at his face despite his own desire to squawk that he absolutely does not do that. "He leaves his left flank vulnerable."

"Left side." He hears Pod repeat to her dutifully. "You have my word."

"Thank you." His wife whispers back.

…...

"And then, the lady-knight's wooden sword broke and she was standing unarmed in the pit. One on one with the bear." Jaime holds up the bear carving again, shaking it slowly over the other figure. He tries to hide the smirk as Tom closes his eyes tightly, he turns back to Amena and Ty who both sit raptured. "But just as all hope was about to be lost, a brave one handed knight jumped into the pit. He was unarmed, risking his life to save her. He boosted her out of the pit, and she pulled him up after in return."

"And then what?" Amena asks from Janali's lap, her chubby face leaning towards Jaime, dark curls cascading over her mother's arms.

"Well, she gave him a kiss and-."

"Are you lying to the children?" Brienne calls to him from the doorway. "I did not kiss you."

"You should have." Jamie shrugs. "I'm just making you more clever in my version."

"Why didn't you kiss him, Mummy?" Tomsyl asks, his four year old eyes regarding her very seriously. "You didn't want to kiss, Father?"

"I've never not wanted to kiss your father." She hums, looking into his crinkled green eyes, she scrunches up her nose. "But he was very dirty."

"I was not!" Jaime baulks. "I'd just recently bathed if you do remember, Ser."

"I remember." She sighs wistfully.

"Come on children." Janali calls looking between her Lord and Lady before, pulling herself and Amena off the floor. "Speaking of dirty, it's time to get washed for supper."

Jaime rises, leaving the props of his story on the play table before him as he meanders towards her, please when she doesn't move away. He palmed her hip, moving her closer before his hand drifted over her curved stomach. He wonders how much longer until he'll be able to feel their next born child move beneath his palm. She sighs next to him, leaning in until lifts his eyes to hers. He smiles as her fingers rise to his cheeks and she presses her mouth into his.

"What was that for?"

"For jumping one handed and unarmed into a bear pit." She teases.

"Better late than never, I guess." He pulled her body tight to his. "Were you going to tell me about my volunterable left flank?"

"Jaime-." He brushed her lips with his to silence her.

"I know that when I get protective and worry about your vulnerability it bothers you. I know you see it as some kind of slight, but I have to say My Love, I don't share that." He pecks a kiss on her cheek bone. "I actually find it quite endearing when you worry about me."

"You wouldn't have felt that way if I'd acted on my impulse to tell Arya I wouldn't send you to Winterfell." She huffs.

"Yes how offensive that my pregnant lady wife wants me to stay alive."

"We are warriors-."

"I am an old man with one hand." He snorts, as she drops her face against his chest.

"Stop it."

"I'll be careful. I'll stick close to Pod, and Arya as well, she's quite fond of me and I hear she may have some skills in the fighting department." He draws his thumb across her jaw.

"It's driving me mad, not going." She confesses, her nose rubbing against his collarbone as she shakes her head at her own faults. "It's ridiculous."

"It's driving me mad we won't be able to reenact all of our best Winterfell stories." He hums.

"Well, we have the dolls." She teases, smiling as he laughs.

"At least now I know why my damn left side is always so sore after we spar." He told her, moving his hand back to the baby. "Here I thought you were just that good."

"I am that good." She spit at him indignantly.

"Against a one handed old knight." He teases.

"Against anyone in that sparring yard." She held herself up stiffly. "With child or without."

"I like it better when you fight without." He decides, his eyes wrinkling.

"Then stop getting me pregnant." She let her eyebrow raise.

"I don't remember you complaining during the actual getting." He reminds.

"This is the last time."

"You said that last time." He reminded her.

"I mean it this time." She sighs, turning and making her way back towards the children.

"Pretty sure you meant it last time." He chuckles to himself.

….

_**Lord Commander Kings Gaurd**_

_**Winterfell**_

_**Dear Ser,**_

_**Crisis averted, the army will march south tomorrow.**_

_**I will return via ship, with the Snow Queen, Tyrion and these icy northern children in search of sun with my left flank intact. Arya believes a week or two in Tarth will do us all well. She's written Jon herself.**_

_**Pod did well, you should be proud**_

_**I'll see you soon, Darling.**_

_**Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock and Evenfall Hall **_

Brienne traces her fingers over the painstaking scratched block letters with a slow grin before sending a raven of her own to her father, telling him to prepare for a potential visit from the King.

…

Arya bit her lip, her eyes scanning the horizon before glancing back out at the beach as her nieces and nephews run in and out of the sapphire waves.

"There you are." She smiles a the sound of her sisters voice. "What are you doing up here? You should be down there enjoying my beautiful children."

"I'm enjoying them just fine from up here." She sniffs.

"I'm not going to take that personally. Seeing as I know you're up here indulging in the small part of you that wishes you were the Lady of Storm's End." Sansa raises a perfect eyebrow.

"Rubbish." Her sister snorts.

"It's almost tragic how he hasn't taken a bride." She bats her eyes. "It's what sad stories told by little girls in the court are born from."

"Not your little girl." Arya looks up triumphantly, but Sansa's face has nothing but pride.

"No." She smiles, watching her four year old daughter swat her wooden sword at her cousin as Jaime watches with intensity, shouting little corrections at her a Ty. "My daughter takes after her aunts." She looks warmly at her sister. "All three of them were strong, smart warriors."

"You think of her?" Arya tilts her head. "You look at your daughter and see Cersei?"

"How can I not?" She smiles down at Lyanna, who had now easily knocked Ty out of the game and was sparing with her Uncle Jaime. "With those beautiful Lannister locks of gold?"

"You hated Cersei." Arya shakes her head.

"She taught me." Sansa's face is peaceful and for a second Arya is jealous. "I'm a better ruler because of her. I'm a better mother."

"So evolved." Arya chides.

"She was much worse to my husband, yet he loved her just the same."

"I wasn't always the best sister either." Arya whispers.

"You never sent a sellsword after me." Sansa shrugs. "There's that."

"No. I never did." She looks back out that the waters.

"I'm glad she's like you and Brienne." Sansa whispers, pressing her fingers against her sister's arm.

"I wish Bran had come." Arya sighs, laying her palm over her sisters hand.

"He's here." She shrugs. "He's.. everywhere."

"When I look at them-." Arya stops, until her she feels Sansa's hand squeeze her arm. "I remember.."

"We had a beautiful little childhood didn't we?"

"Jon misses Rob. You wouldn't believe how many times he asks me what I think Rob would do." She swallows. "And I don't think any of us but Bran has ever really considered who Rickon really was, or would have become."

"I do sometimes." Sansa's voice is quiet and still, Arya has to turn to her to hear it. "I think it's why I named my first born son for him. To write him a better story then the one he received. Tyrion wanted me to wait, wait for a baby that wasn't a dwarf." She smiles sadly. "My poor sweet husband. He said that in a rewritten life a man should look like Jamie Lannister." Arya's eyes fall on her brother in law, sitting in the sand with his two year old son and young Tom; all of their blonde hair shining back in the son, working the strings of a kite. "I think he will do just fine looking like his father."

"Can you imagine what mother would say? Us sunning South, up to our ears in Lannisters?"

"She'd hate it." Sansa smiles brightly. "And love it. She'd love it more if you'd stop brooding and go play with your niece. You're really going to let her learn sword work from a Lion?"

"You're sure it doesn't bother you? You've birthed two children a warrior for me and a dwarf for your husband. Where is your fiery mini-lady who longs for the fairytale?"

Sansa pulled their joined hands from her sister's arm and settled them on her middle.

"Perhaps this one is her." She beams at Arya's wonder.

"How many are you going to have?" Her sister grimaces.

"As many as I can." She grins, turning back out to where Tyrion has gotten the kite in the air and her chubby stout toddler is racing after it as far as his little legs can carry him. "And they'll have a beautiful little childhood too."

…..


	19. Chapter 19

**Five and one half years into King Jon's Reign- Part Two**

….

"Get over it, he's delightful." Jaime Lannister huffs. He had never really been good with emotions, his brother thinks before turning his eyes to stare at him.

"Get over it?" Tyrion hisses.

"Yes."

"Do you know how the tortured me? How they-."

"Yes." Jaime interrupts. "And I didn't do enough and I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you didn't stop the world from being cruel?"

"I'm sorry I didn't stop our sister." He sighs, and his brother can't help but look away when Jaime mentions Cersei, he gives him that peace. "I'm sorry I let Father set the tone for how the world saw you." Tyrion looks away from him, pondering the concept softly. "If you would have had the full force of the Rock behind you, a whole herd of Lions… no one else would have seen you as anything but my brother. And Brienne and I have already agreed that if we are given a child who is a dwarf we'll simply count little fingers and toes and carry on."

Tyrion's pinched face gives him a long look.

"Don't let them do this to your son." Jamie shakes his head. "They're gone. They're dead and we're not. We're a whole new breed of Lion. Never let him or anyone else see him as anything but what he is. He is a smart, charming little boy who chases a dragon kite down the beach with excitement and fervor."

Tyrion sits with that for a moment, before giving his brother a nod.

"Sansa wants to name the next girl after our mother." He tells him backhandedly, watching Jamie's smile slip from sentimental to sparkling.

"My Lady wants to name a daughter Catelyn." He grins.

"Seriously?" Tyrion snickers.

"The world is ironic." His brother sniffs. "Sansa Stark will have a child named for my mother and god willing I will have one named for hers."

"Have I told you lately how glad I am you didn't die?" Tyrion quips, looking at him in all seriousness.

"I'm quite pleased with that turn of events as well."

…..

"If it isn't my brother the King." Sansa sighs, moving across the large stone porch.

"Why it's my sister the Snow Queen, in the flesh." He whispered softly.

"You know Jon this is my second moody sibling encounter of the day." She raises an eyebrow. "Am I the only happy Stark?"

"I'm happy." He snorts back.

"Then why are you up here alone?" She blinks at him, watching one of his long legs pushing the chair beside him towards her.

"Join me and I won't be." Her pin straight body seemed to hover over the chair as she settled. "I hear from my young niece that their is yet another Lannister on the way."

"There is." He can't help think she's glowing.

"Your mother would be proud."

"She would, perhaps not with my choice of husband, but the rest of it? Yes."

"I have grown to like your choice of husband quite a bit." Jon shakes his head like he can't believe what he's said.

"He's the best of them." Her soft sly smile melts into something more. "What of you? Don't you think it's time for a Queen? Someone to massage her fingers along your neck to keep it from collapsing against the weight of your crown?"

"Is that what Tyrion does?" Jon avoids.

"That simple pleasure rarely ends with babies." She chuckles and he winces. "I'm serious. I know that Arya's given herself up to the idea that a warrior's life must be void of love and tenderness, do you feel the same about a King?"

"You don't partake of that idea?"

"My other sweet sister has proven that a woman can be both." Sansa's eyebrow arched under her red tussles. "She's all of it; Lord Commander of your Kingsguard, married to a love match, she's mothered two with another on the way. If she can have it all why can't Arya?"

"You think Lord Gendry would have prided in his Lady Wife with her scabbard at one hip and a babe at the other like Jaime Lannister does?

"I think Lord Gendry would have done whatever his Lady Wife commanded he do. Much like my dear brother does." Sansa sniffs out an airy laugh as Jon shrugs in agreement. "But we were talking about you, Your Grace."

"Don't placate me with honorifics if you please." He rubs his face. "And why are you so keen to marry me off?"

"You're lonely Jon."

"You more than anyone knows a monarch is never alone." He scoffs.

"Jon." She rolls her eyes, and he sits up suddenly, pulling out a glass for her and filling it with wine. She smiled slightly before putting up her hand. "I'm pregnant, you fool."

"Sorry." He mumbles, tipping the cup to his own lips. "I've loved, Sansa, twice. I think twice.." His eyes train far off over her shoulder, looking at the sparkling skies above Evenfall. "I'm not really sure anymore.."

"I loved Joffrey once." She reminds him. "Before I knew who he was. I was in love with the idea of him, a childhood fantasy."

"I was no child."

"You were a grieving widow, battered and betrayed and reluctantly forced to lead. You were looking for salvation and maybe redemption and she provided that to you." Sansa finished.

"I was no widow."

"That's not the way the freefolk tell the story." She smiles. "It's not the way Samwell Tarly remembers it when he and Gilly named their daughter Ygritte for her honor. It's not the way your eyes tell the story whenever a hint of her is in the air."

"She was.." He took a deep breath and let it out before returning the cup to his mouth. "When they named her, I thought I'd die. I thought I'd never feel anything but hurt when I saw her." His eyes dance in the torchlight for a moment. "But when I watch her, tearing across the throne room with the boys, with Gilly and the Lannister nanny in hot pursuits calling her name over and over…" He stops and swallows hard before looking at his sister with tears in his eyes. "I smile."

"Children heal you." Sansa tells him knowingly. "A child of your own Jon, would heal you."

"No." He winkles his face at her and shakes his head. "I'll leave the South to your Rickon." He tells her with a smile. "He and his sweet sister can rule our sibling kingdoms side by side as you and I have.

"I want peace for you." She pleads

"I don't deserve it, Sansa." He shakes his head. "I don't."

"Ser Podrick Payne told me once that when Brienne left for Kings Landing he was reminded of her telling him that there is nothing more hateful than failing to protect the one you love." His sister sighed. "But that hate isn't a life sentence, Jon."

"Ygritte died because I couldn't bring peace. Rob died because I couldn't break my word to people that would soon try to destroy me. Rickon died because I couldn't protect him." He sniffs. "King's Landing nearly burned because I was smitten with a false queen. If not for the three of you, seeing what she was before I did? I would have done nothing while she destroyed everything. And for that they burdened me with a crown."

"You're a good king, Jon. King's Landing loves you, they forgive your miss step. I can't speak for your love, but I can speak for my brother's and they forgive you. They love you and forgive you." Sansa pushes herself forward and pulls his hand to her lap. "Forgive yourself."

….

By the time Jaime Lannister has left his brother and made his way back to his wife, he's quite drunk.

She's half asleep, on the bed with Tom's body curled around the next Lannister nestled in its mother's womb. In the nursery, he finds Ty, Amena and Lyanna asleep in a pile of northern furs by the door and he thinks they look like puppies. He pulls his four year old son back from his mother and ads him to the litter in the other room.

She's still staring at him, through half lidded eyes when he returns, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoothing feathery wisps of spun straw colored curls away from her face. Her hair gets longer when she's pregnant, and he likes it that way, the way it frames her face in little ringlets.

"Did you have as much fun with your brother as your son's had with their cousins?"

"I think so." He took a deep breath. "I passed the Stark Siblings on my way back. The were deep in remembrance. I tried to stay out of there way."

"This was a good idea." She smiles at him. "And the Arya bit didn't fool me you know. I know this is your doing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about M'Lady." He grins at her.

"My father expects you for breakfast. He has big plans for the north tower and he wants you to be excited about them."

"I will put on my best Heir of Evenfall Hall manners for him." Jaime watches as his wife's fingers start to undo the buttons of his vest. A King's visit to his wife's island requires a level of formal attire he hasn't had to pull out in a while. He kept moving his fingers in her hair. "Sansa stopped me today and asked if you were alright."

"I am." She assures him.

"She says you look tired. And she seemed to make some indication that it was my fault."

"It's not." Brienne's face turned up to look at him.

"I assured her you just hate being pregnant. She doesn't' seem to share that sentiment." His wife presses her palm to his now exposed chest when he leans in to kiss her forehead."

"She doesn't command an Army and protect a King while her next child grows inside her." She murmurs. "Her husband doesn't get dispatched to deal with unknown cultures." Jaime hums, his body stretching on the bed and pulling her in. "She's younger than I, things were easier for her."

"She didn't labor for three days.." Jamie groans.

"If you could not remind me of the horrors that await me, Ser?" She sneers at him before framing his face in her palms. "She's better at the womanly parts."

"I like your womanly parts quite a bit." He grins suggestively, running his hand down the long scar of her side before settling on her hip.

"You do, do you?" She sniffs, bringing her mouth to his.

"I do."

"Show me what you like about them." She orders him.

"As you wish."

…...


	20. Chapter 20

**15 Years into the Reign of King Jon (Part One)**

He's ticking off the list of things he needs to do in his head, ignoring the voice in it that is urgently flashing warnings at him that his time is already up. It's moving too fast, faster than the other times. He shakes it off and heads towards the chamber door.

"Jaime." Her voice is strained and he winces hard before turning slowly back to look at her. She's hunched over the chair, her arms shaking with the effort to hold herself up right.

"No." He says firmly as she takes a long staggered breath, reaching her long arm to the bedpost and making her way to the bed. Her upper body pitches forward a bit more.

"You can't tell me no." Her voice is high and indignant and he would have laughed if she hadn't moaned just a bit at the end. His shoulders slump and he goes to her, pressing his right arm against her back and taking her hand in his.

"I just did." He holds her steady as she moves herself onto the mattress, her fingernails marking his upper arm with her free hand.

"Sansa says wildling women leave their houses and squat alone in a field. Would that be more to your liking?" She accuses, her teeth coming to rest on her lower lip. He presses a kiss to her damp forehead.

"I am not asking you to squat alone in a fucking field. I'm asking you to wait for the damn maester." His hand pulls back from hers and flutters across her tight abdomen, stroking it until the rigidity recedes.

"It's not up to _me_." She's incredulous now.

"Isn't it?" He sounds generally curious and she snorts.

"We've done this three other times you know." She reminds him.

"And each damn time you managed to wait for the Maester."

"Well he better hurry." Jamie looks up at the quickening of her breath and his face morphs into a look of irritation. "I'm so sorry this is inconveniencing you!" She shouts before crying out. "Jaime!"

"Alright.." He soothes as her hand gripped at his lame limb with enough fury to rip the rest of it off. "It's alright."

He presses her back towards the pillows, unties her dressing gown and let it slip open. She cries again, her back arching up towards him as he cupped his hand carefully in slow curves around her abdomen until she dropped back again. It's properly started now, and he goes through the motions he's seen seven of the eight times his children had arrived. He peels his hand away from her, and wets a washcloth before wiping between her legs, bracing one against his shoulder and the other against his right elbow.

"Anything?" She whispers wearily with just a hint of hope in her voice.

"Nothing yet." He breaths easily, more hopeful she may make it til the maester arrived. She lets out a frustrated huff and he runs his fingers over the top of her thigh.

"It's so fast this time." Her chest rises and falls quickly. "I shouldn't complain."

"Remember all the hours with Tom?" He muses.

"I mostly remember all the screaming." Brienne's eyes flutter back for a second and he watches her swallow. She'd screamed until she was hoarse and Jaime thought his heart was going to break. He smooths his hand across her body, feeling the contraction start again.

"Yes I was quite loud wasn't I?" He teases and she laughs before it turns choppy and fearful, one of her hands grasping out for his while the other clutched the back of her knee. Jaime's experienced eye watches for the first sliver of the baby's head.

"I see him." His steady voice calls above her groan.

"Oh thank Gods." She breaths before seizing again, her foot planting against his shoulder, he leaned in firmly against her to keep from being pushed from the bed. "Jaime."

"I'm here." He reminds her, like she's somehow not noticed him; her hand clawing at his arm, his hand pressing back her right thigh.

"Last one." She shakes her head fiercely. "I mean it Jaime, I do! This time I-. Gods!" She pushes hard and he steadies them.

"More. More. More." He coaches rapidly. "Good that was Good. A little bit longer." He moves his hand to cup her face. "Just a little bit longer and he's here."

"Seven Hell's it bloody hurts." She pants as he draws a clean cloth across her face.

"You never have to do it again if you don't want to." He promises.

"I won't." She answers, her breath picking up again.

"You say that every time." He smiles.

"And I mean it every time." Her words grind out, her body shaking with effort. Her hand grasping the front of his shirt before he offers her his grip.

"So much faster." He shook his head. "Almost Darling. I can almost see his whole head now."

Her breath rattled as she calmed and he realizes he's made peace with the fact that the maester won't arrive in time.

Brienne curses and cries for him at the same time, and he responds softly. Encouragingly coaxing her through the hardest part.

All at once he remembers the baths of Harrenhal, the bear pit and River Run. He sees the stained glass of Winterfell's sept and feels the smack of her palm against his cheek in Flea Bottom. He hears her voice calling him out of the darkness in the West Watch and sees the fear in her eyes when Arya blurts out that she's pregnant with Tom before she'd even had a inkling. He sees her white and swaying in the sun four years ago, just before they last time they did this very dance when Jon was born.

He was so caught up in it all that he's surprised when he sees the emerging head of his eighth born child.

"Woah." He sputters at her, quickly. "Ease up. Ease up I need my hand." She releases her death grip but there is no stopping her now and he has to rush his arms forward to cradle the tiny head when the rest of the baby slides free. He pushes it into the crook of his arm and rubs at it with his left hand until it screams and she laughs, her full throaty laugh that makes him feel lighter. "There. There."

He's pulling blankets and towels and studying the new little person between his wife's legs when he stills, a small gasp catching in his throat.

"What?" His wife yelps, reaching wearily for him. "What's wrong?"

"It's a girl." He chokes, with all the disbelief that would have come from him saying 'its a dragon.'

"A what?!" She pinches her eyebrows tight when he turns to look at her.

"A girl." A look of giddiness has taken him over.

"We don't make girls." She told him as if he had forgotten a basic truth of the universe.

He lifted the baby up to show her and her eyes widened.

"Apparently we have." He gave her a wide eyed look before her hands came forward and pulled the baby to her chest, studying the little creature closely as it wailed.

"A girl." She shakes her head. Her lips quiver as Jaime moved to her side.

"Catelyn." He breathes in her ear. "That's still what you want?" She turns her wild blue eyes to his and smiles. "Catelyn Lannister of Casterly Rock and Evenfall Hall."

"A girl." She whispers airily, turning to face him again. He ran his hand over the squalling baby's head and kissed her shoulder, holding his green eyes on his wife's amazed face. "You've always wanted a girl. You've never said it but I knew each time." He pushed back a lock of sweat drenched hair and kissed her brow. "And now I've gone and given you a girl."

She knew the few moments that he'd been Myrcella's father had made him long for another girl. Long for that feeling of holding his sweet daughter in his arms again. She watched him run his fingers over her sweet face now.

"Cat is a fitting name for a lion." He breaths as the door swings open and the winded Maester rushed in.

"I tried to tell her to wait for your Ulithi but she doesn't listen to me." Jamie said softly.

…..

A cheer goes up in the dining hall when Tyrion announces the first female Lannister child of Evenfall Hall.

Sansa blinks back tears at her name.

"It's a good thing you never used it." He wrinkles his brow. "They were sure they were destined for all boys and we had four chances to steal it."

"We've a Lyanna, a Lynara, a Theon and a Rickon." His wife reminds him wistfully. "That's enough Starks for me. Jeyne and Joanna are just fine."

He looks up at his children now, the three youngest girls all cluster around a table, as strong and lady like as their mother. Lyanna is talking with some exuberance to a tiny waif of a girl he doesn't recognize, but she obviously does. His lips flip up as his beautiful daughter suddenly looks tongue tied as the other child touches her arm. Well well, what do we have here? He thinks to himself as his gaze slides past them to his son's. Rickon's dwarfed body has started slowly falling behind his younger brother's as Theon's growth starts towards manhood. It makes him think of his brother, safe in their childhood home on the coast of the Sunset Sea. He misses him.

"I saved Catelyn for Brienne." She's studying him.

"Does it make you want another baby?" He raises his eyebrows at her honestly. "The news from the south?"

"No." She says firmly and he smiles. "We have our hands full with the six of them. "

"Humm." He slides his eyes to her before taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers. "Just checking. You have a look."

"It does however make me think of traveling to Casterly Rock." She tests, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. Tyrion let their hands drop back toward the table in shock before turning back towards her.

"We just visited six months ago." He reminds her.

"Yes. I'm aware." She sniffs. "And I was thinking for slightly more than a visit. I was thinking of Wintering there."

"You hate the south."

"Lyanna loves it. She's homesick for it." She grinned at her Lord Husband. "As are you. You miss your brother and I miss mine too. And my sister."

"There must always be a Stark-." He begins drolly tipping his head back and looking at her from the tops of his eyeballs.

"In Winterfell, yes I'm aware. Despite his protests that he is something else, my brother is still Brandon Stark of Winterfell. He can warden for a while. He'll have Ser Sandor here with him, and I can call on Tormund if I feel the need to." She shoots him a conspiratorial look. "What could possibly go wrong?"

He laughs out loud at her now, a joyous sound that makes her grin as he shakes his head and clamors to his feet.

"I will send my brother a Raven and let him know Winter is coming." Sansa grins as he kisses her cheek before heading off to find the maester.

"'What could possibly go wrong?' She says." He mutters to himself.

"Where are you going father?" Rickon calls, rushing after him.

"South apparently." He grumbles, reaching his arm around his son's shoulders as Sansa adds another mental stone to the wall of love they've built together.

…...


	21. Chapter 21

**15 Years into the Reign of King Jon (Part Two)**

Jaime realizes he's been spotted when his oldest son raises his hand to shade his eyes. He waves absently as his boy pulls his skiff further onto the shore line and jogged towards him.

"Da?" He shoved his hands into his pockets. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I've been coming out here since before you were born." Jaime scoffs, insulted at the idea. "Since before your mother was born."

"Was that the last time?" He asks cheekily, his eyebrows raising with a smirk that reminds Jaime of his sister. He smiles at him, but it never reachs his eyes. "Da, seriously." His voice is all Brienne now and he lets the feel of his wife wash over him.

"I wanted to talk to you, without your brothers."

"About Cersei?" Ty swallows. Jaime's puzzled face snapped up to his. "You had the look."

"It's not just about her." He sighs, rubbing his face. "In fact-." He extends his palm. "It's not about her at all, it's about you. I want to talk to you about you."

"Okay." He sits beside him on the large boulders. "What about me do you want to tell me?"

"Ask you." He sighs. "You're 15, I've come to ask you."

"Okay." He stops, tilting his head and watching like Brienne does.

"Your mother wants you to come to King's Landing with her, Catelyn and Lyanna in the spring." Jaime sighs.

"King's Landing." He shakes his blonde head. "Da, I've been to King's Landing a dozen springs."

"To court." He interjects and Ty's eyes jump to his. "To squire, like your cousin." He takes a deep breath. "I told her I thought you were still too young-."

"You were knighted by the time you were my age." Ty snorts.

"That was during war. This is peace." He looks cautiously at his son. "I could have used a few more summers with a skiff." Ty's eyes look out at the sea. "Is this something you want?"

Ty looks back at him and he can't help but think how much more he looks like Tommen every day.

"This is the part that's about Cersei." Ty says softly, pulling his knee against his chest and resting his head on it. "About how you feel guilty for worrying I'll turn into her?"

"No." His father tells him sternly.

"That I'll taste the power of the Red Keep up close and it will awaken my inner Lannister evil and I'll be flooded with self righteousness that I, Tyric Lannister, son of Cersei and Jamie Lannister is the true heir to to the Iron Throne."

"Ty." Jaime rubbed at his face.

"Do you have nightmares about me lugging the thing up from the basement of the Keep?" He snickers. "Do you think I'll murder King Jon in his sleep? The man who slaughtered his queen so I could live?" For as often as Ty reminds him of Brienne and Cersei, he currently reminds him of a certain golden haired, two handed, young knight.

"I'm glad this is something you can joke about." He huffs. "I absolutely do not think that."

"But you fear it." Ty whispers softly. "I can't say that I never have." Jaime looks at his boy. "I've studied them. Tywin, Cersei and Joffrey. I know what they were. I've also read about my kind grandmother Joanna and of Myrcella and Tommen who were good and just. Just as my father is. Maybe you've heard of him? Ser Jamie Lannister? Warden protector of King's Landing?"

"That's just some silly tittle your aunt Sansa cooked up to make me sound fancy enough to be forever linked to House Stark."

"Or to honor the fact that you saved the people there." Ty reminds him. "Twice."

"This is about you." Jamie reminds him.

"No. If it were about me Mum would have asked over apple tarts at breakfast." He sighs. "This is about your fear."

"You are so much like your mother." His father swallows, shaking his head.

"I am." He laid his hand on Jaime's arm. "And she is my mother. Ser Brienne of Tarth, Lord Commander of the Kings Gaurd, Lady of Evenfall Hall and Casterly Rock. And there is no one more just and kind then her. It may not be her blood in my veins, but it's her words in my heart and her lessons in my head." The boy looked down. "Her's and yours."

Jaime sucks in a long slow breath before pressing his lips to the young man's temple.

"Should I tell your mother-?"

"Tell her I'll think about it." He whispers. "I don't want to decide here. I want to go home."

Jaime couldn't help but smile, his son was the most purely Lannister person on earth and all he wanted was Tarth.

"Your wildling cousins will arrive soon, we'll present your sister to the Westerlands stay with them for a week before heading to King's Landing to present your sister to the King, and then home to present her to your grandfather." He smirks before leaning down to meet his son's eyes. "Ty it's your decision."

"I know." He sighs. "Would it bother you? My squiring? Knighthood -eventually- would help me gain clout in the East. It would help my standings in Tarth. Maybe I could get assigned to someone in the East? Maybe even with one of men of Storm's End. Then I'm practically home."

"You have no need to worry about your standings in Tarth, your grandfather has sung those praises since the day your mother showed up with you in her arms. And Lord Gendry would be lucky to have you." He set his palm on his son's cheek. "It wouldn't bother me if you were a squire, or a knight or a smithy. As long as you were happy. I'll just miss you."

They sit in silence for a while before Ty turns to him.

"You really aren't going back to King's Landing with the girls?" Jaime blinked for a minute before turning back to the sea.

"I hate it there." He told his oldest child.

"You've lived there most of your life." Ty snorts.

"Yes. And I hate it."

"But you love my mother." His son reminds him. "I can't see you being happy a six hour trip from her.

"And what'll I do? Jaime smirks. "The wash? Some needle point?"

"This is about you feeling like a useless house husband?" Ty yelps, shaking his head. "This from Jaime Lannister the banner man for gender equality in the Sibling Kingdoms? Westeros first man to knight a woman?" Jaime mocks horror at his son. "She's given you a brand new baby to raise up for her. A girl like you always wanted."

The old knight hears his wife's tearful voice.

I've gone and given you a girl.

"Now your going to go hide out on Tarth? Moping around with grandfather while she protects the city, King Jon, Lyanna and Cat?"

Jaime looked out into the Sunset Sea and let his son's words flutter across his mind.

…

It's a week later when winter comes to Casterly Rock. And so does Arya Stark. Jaime sits in his dining hall, next to his wife looking like he might just climb out of the nearest window. He remembers these events from when he was a child and how wonderful and exciting they were, but now it's a to do list of Western Lords, Ladies and heirs and he finds the task of remembering their names much harder than he had 30 years ago, when he wasn't nearly 57.

The benefit of the boys being born in Kings Landing was you needn't present them to any one but the King, and it was pretty handy when all you had to do was walk him across the courtyard.

Brienne won't let anyone touch her babe anyhow. Her own mother swore by the old wives tale when Brienne was born, her heart still heavy from two sisters who'd died in cradle. So far Jaime figured, looking back at the tight ranks of his healthy sons, it had served them plenty well.

He watched with quite a bit of pride as the Lannister children formed the line.

One by one they chirped off their titles and houses. He watches his brother's children with a deep tenderness. Tyrion doesn't look concerned, to the naked eye, but Jaime sees his tight grasp on the arm Sansa has wrapped around his.

"Lyanna Lannister of Winterfell and Casterly Rock" With her blonde hair braided and looped off her shoulders giving no sign of the fierce young swordswoman who had bested her old uncle the night before.

"Rickon Lannister of Winterfell and Casterly Rock" Who's small stature does nothing to slump his broad shoulders and piercing green eyes.

"Joanna Lannister of Winterfell and Casterly Rock" Red tresses standing arm and arm with her identical twin sister.

"Lynara Lannister of Winterfell and Casterly Rock." Her sly smile letting Jaime know which girl was the evil twin. There was always one, just a little more clever than the other.

"Theon Lannister of Winterfell and Casterly Rock." The little boy almost shouts his title and Jaime smiled as he nudged his tiny sister.

"Jeyne." She murmurs softly, as Rickon drops his head and whispers in her ear. "Of Winterfell… and castle-y rocks."

The Lords and Lady's roar with laughter and the tiny girl startles. He tells himself that it's because she's cute and not because they're making fun of her dwarfism, but Jaime resists the urge to grab up his little niece and hold her close.

Instead he squares his shoulders and watches as his boys present themselves.

"Tyric Lannister of Evenfall Hall and Casterly Rock." Jaime's eyes slid across the crowd, as if he dares anyone out there to think otherwise, but just as no one really had for the last 15 years no one challenges that mistruth tonight. Brienne squeezes his hand and he lets out the breath he's forgotten he was holding.

"Tomsyl Lannister of Evenfall Hall and Casterly Rock." His sweet shy son blushes like his mother and it's Jaime's turn to squeeze her hand.

"Renly Lannister of Evenfall Hall and Casterly Rock." If Tom is shy, Ren is made for this moment. His piercing green eyes shine at the crowd, daring them to poke the little lion.

"Jon Lannister of Evenfall Hall and Casterly Rock." His youngest son rushes out the words impatiently, and Jaime figures his vest will be off and on the floor before the applauds for his baby sister have receded.

He turns to his wife then, her deep blue gown making her look all the Lady of Casterly Rock he can handle at this moment and she gives him their daughter and drops her hand to Widow Wail's pommel before sliding it to Oathkeeper's.

"Catelyn Lannister." He swallows, willing himself not to cry as he looks at her, his Love's sapphire eyes shining back at him in her small face. "Of Evenfall Hall and Casterly Rock." She squeals as he holds her up, her body jerking with the sound of thunderous applause and he pulls her tight to his body the way he wishes Tyrion had done with Jeyne. "Now Sweetling." He whispers. "It's alright. The next two times won't be as horrid." He kisses her blonde head. "Father has you. I have you."

…

"Was it terribly frightening?" Sansa asks her, as the sprawl out on her and Jaime's bed.

"Frightening?" Brienne sounds puzzled. "Having a baby in a war tent was frightening. This was just-." She shrugs. "Having a baby."

"But you had a maester then." Sansa exclaims. "You were on your own in this."

"Not at all. I had Jaime." She reminds them.

"And that was a comfort?" Arya yelps from the chair, her glass hanging from her fingertips.

"Yes it's a comfort. It's not like he doesn't know what to do." She shrugs. "Not like he hasn't helped me through it three other times. I'd rather not have the Maester than not have Jaime."

"Tyrion would die." Sansa snickers. "He'd just die."

"Really?" Brienne looks at her like that was the strangest thing she's ever heard before adding more wine to the Snow Queen's glass.

"It's difficult enough for him to be in the room. I usually don't send for him until the end and even then he likes to pace. Every once and while he'll wipe my brow and pat my hand."

"He wouldn't climb on a cot with you and help you push like Jaime did in the war tent?" Arya snorts. Sansa looks from her to Brienne like this is an insanity.

"He would not." She laughs. "He'd probably offer to pay someone to." Arya laughs at that.

"I'm fairly certain the hardest thing Jaime ever did was walk away from Cersei's door the night that Ty was born." Arya mumbles. "And even then I think he could only do it because he was walking to you." Brienne smiles as Arya looks at her sister. "The two of them together in any sort of battle something rather beautiful."

"Gods. Arya that was almost a romantic sentiment." Sansa's voice is pure wonder.

"My love and I make Arya long for trip to Storm's End." Came Jaime's soft voice from the door.

"Do you mind, Ser?" Sansa yelps, her glass leaning enough to sprinkle a few drops of Jaime's favorite Dornish wine on the rug.

"Seeing as this is my bed chamber? No." He smiles, pulling a box from a shelf. "I've just come to retrieve something. Then you all can go back to discussing my midwifery." He presses his lips tenderly against his wife's mouth. "Couldn't you have served them the stuff from The Reach?"

"Darling she's the Queen of the North." Brienne reminds him, wiping her wine stained lip marks from his face.

"I suppose." He sighs as he leaves the room.

Arya is glaring at her.

"He's not wrong." Brienne shrugs, Sansa giggles. "The last time we visited Storm's End with Jon, I scarcely even saw you."

"Arya!" Her sister sounds so much like her childhood self Arya snorts with laughter.

"What?!" She asks. "I'm a grown woman!"

…...

"Did you find it?" Tyrion asks him as he returns to the library with the box.

"I did." He grins. "I also learned I'm better with childbirth that you."

"Oh Gods I'd hope so." He rolled his eyes.

"Since when are you so squeamish?" His brother laughed.

"Our mother died in childbirth you know." He reminds Jaime quietly. His brother stops fussing with the box and turns to look at him. "You've never thought about it?"

"With Joffrey." He admits. "And at about hour 30 with Tom. She did actually almost die with Jon, but that wasn't about the baby at all." Jaime looks up at Tyrion. "But it was a fleeting fear. I didn't consume me. My wife is strong, stronger than I am. We've cheated death too many times for me give it too much thought." He looks back at the box. "Are you sure you want to do this now?"

"Seems like it fits the conversation quite perfectly actually." His little brother nods at the box and Jaime pulls off the lid. "It was in the closet?"

"Brienne was having the room made up for Arya. t hadn't been touched in.. probably twenty years. It was father's office once remember?"

"Barely." Jaime pulled out the letters and handed them to Tyrion before pulling the charcoal drawings and setting them on the table.

"This one.." He whispers "Is the one I was telling you about."

He holds up the sketch of their mother to him and Tyrion's jaw goes slack.

"Holy hell." He mutters taking it in his hand. The drawing is of his daughter, or at least that's what anyone would think. It's Lyanna's full mouth and crafted jaw, and her thoughtful eyes. "Is this how you remember her?" Jaime gives him a quick nod.

"Older, maybe a little fuller in the face. More like Cersei when her hair was short and it made her face seem rounder. But Lyanna is most definitely in her image." Jaime watches Tyrion look at the drawing before he rises and walks to the side of the room and pulls two frames. He pulls the sheet off one and their is their mother, full color looking back at them, the fine oils in the painting making her come to life. Again there is an undeniable resemblance to Lyanna. He slides the last one out and it's her and the twins, Jaime's face pressed against his mothers thigh, Cersei's hand grasping at his right wrist hard, even in the painting, her eyes narrowed at him. Joanna looks down, and Tyrion wonders if he is projecting the little wariness he thinks he sees in his mothers expression as she looks at his sister. "I'll have them packed for you and shipped to Winterfell."

"You should keep the second." He says automatically.

"No." Jaime shakes his head. "I won't be hanging pictures of our dear sister in my home. Either of them, any of them."

"She always told the story of how you were holding her foot when you were born.. like somehow you were afraid for her to leave you behind, but I see her there, her claws in you.." He squints. "Maybe you were trying to protect the world from her.."

"Brienne delighted in pointing out to me that this is the hand that's been gone for decades." He taps at the painting. "And that I lost it when I found her."

"Well that's damn symbolic." Tyrion snorts, his fingers moving through the letters. Stopping and glancing at each of them.

"Right?" He sniffs. "I should have Pod sing us a song about it."

"Jaime?" His older brother turns to him slowly. "Have you looked at these?"

"I'm not really as interested in trailing back through old childhood memories as you are Tyrion."

"It's from Lady Allyana of Tarth. To mother." Jaime's eyes wrinkle. "About her newborn daughter and mother's letter than she may be a potential bride for her son Jaime."

….

"Oh Gods." Brienne's fingers moved across the page and Jaime watched her read it with a sly grin. She flipped it around and looked at the symbol embossed on the front. "This is real, this is from my mother._ 'I can see it too, My Lady, my beautiful babe with hair of sun straw and your sweet boy with a golden mane.'_ Our mothers were trying to marry us off?"

"Apparently so."

"Maybe this was just a highborne custom? Maybe there were lots of letters like this?" She shook her head.

"Maybe, but this is the only one my mother kept in a box until she died." He pointed out, pressing a kiss to her face.

"They wanted to give you to Lysa Tully? Or A Martell or something."

"My father." He shrugs as the baby let out a little cry and he went to retrieve her, undoing the tie of her shift and guiding their daughter to her teat. Jaime settled behind her, supporting the baby with his stunted arm. "The social climber."

"Oh my poor Darling, you'd have hated me." She laughs, reaching up and letting her fingers touch his chin.

"I would have grown to love you just as Tyrion and Sansa have grown to love each other." He kissed her neck.

"You'd have hated me." She repeats.

"I used to imagine how things would have been different, if my mother had lived, but I never thought this different."

"I did that too." She shook her head. "They'd have brought you some giant beast of toddler and told you she was your future bride and you and Cersei would have had a damn good laugh."

"Stop it." He grimaces.

"That would have been how we met."

"I like the way we met better." He tells her. "Although it does seem now that perhaps our mothers had a hand in it now doesn't it?"

"Do you think she'd have been disappointed?"

"Yours or mine?" His wife, ran her free hand along his forearm and adjusted the baby's blanket.

"Yours." She says like he's an idiot.

"In me or you?" He teases.

"Jaime.." She sniffs. "I'm asking."

"It's been a long time since I've seen insecure Brienne. I haven't missed her." His wife huffs at him.

"I'd have wanted your mother to like me." She whispers.

"She'd have loved you." He groans. "You've given me a house full of boys. Tall beautiful Gods. And this.." He strokes across Cat's little arm and she wraps her grip around his finger. "This little bit." HIs voice breaks a little and he bites his lip. "She's just the little extra, the sweet cream butter on top of the bread."

He presses his lips to the baby's hand and then to his wife's mouth.

"I love you." He says like its the most obvious thing that has ever been. "How could anyone not love you?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Eleven years into King Jon's Reign during The Bloodless War.**

**On Essos' South Western Shore. (Part one)**

...

"It doesn't seem like they're responding in the least." Arya snaps, tossing her hands onto the table with a smack.

"Which is why we need to hold our own." Jaime reminds her softly. "If we flinch before they even appear to know that there is something to flinch at we don't come across as very strong, now do we?"

"So we wait? We just wait? I let them launch thinly veiled threats at my sister, ignore my brother and accuse us of being poor neighbors while-."

"Ser Jaime!" The tent flap opens quickly and the young Sam Tarly scurries in.

"Boy what have I told you about-?" He hisses at his squire.

"It's the Lord Commander, Sir. Father says come quickly." Jaime's eyes shot to Arya.

"Go. Go on." She knows his ask is just a formality, he's already half out the door and to the Maester's tent before the words are even out of her mouth.

He yanks back the flap in near panic only to find her sitting on the edge of a raised cot, sniffling like a child. Gilly stands nearby, patting her back sweetly as Sam stares at her, wrinkle faced, from his makeshift desk.

His head tips back with relief, because all at once it hits him what this is. He's expected this even, the signs were very much there for him in the quiet moments they've managed to grab scraps of. Her sapphire eyes shoot to him with the most accusing look he's seen on her in -well- six years. Gilly backs up slowly as he comes towards her, his left hand coming up to block the arm she flings at him, catching it with practiced ease and pulling her body flush with his.

"How far?" He whispers back over his shoulder at the Maester as she sniffs and sputters into his jerkin.

"At least four months. Probably more." Jaime winces, pressing his chin into her hair.

"Did you pass out?" He guesses.

"I dropped like a freaking bag of stones." She sniffs. "Gods what if I had done that in front of the Ghiscari? For fucks sake Jaime, this is the last damn thing we need right now."

"Is she alright otherwise?" He sighs towards Samwell Tarly.

"She's dehydrated and she needs to eat more." Sam tells him, his eyes rising as if to wish him luck. "We'll give you a some privacy." The Maester stretches his arm out to his wife, who give Jaime as sympathetic nod before leaving.

"It's going to be alright." He moves until their foreheads touch.

"We are teetering on the brink of war." She looks up at him, lost. "The negotiations aren't going well. Sansa's army is ready to come to blows and Jon has no idea how to thread this needle. And here I am, too stupid to realize that it's not the stress, my age, the heat, being in Essos or any of the other excuses I've been making."

"Tyrion's sending his children to the Rock. Yara dispatched a ship to Bear Island, Sandor's going to get them there. I was going to tell you at dinner that it might be time to tell your father to do the same." Jaime tells her softly. "They'll be safer on the West."

He bites back suggesting she join them. He knows better.

"I really thought they'd live a life free from war." She sniffs.

"I mean we really did get a little cocky, naming it the 'Last War' and all." He smirks, peeling back from her a little. "How about I get you something to eat, and have Arya brought to our tent to finish our strategy session? I'm sure she'd appreciate your tempering my enthusiasm."

"We should write Father." She swallows. "About the boys."

He nodded grimly.

He's settled her in their tent with a plate of cheese and hard meats when he sends his young squire with a letter to Lord Selwyn and went off to look for Arya.

….

"Jaime."

"Tyrion." He looks at his brother grimly. "How did it go today?"

"It wasn't totally awful." He grimaces as Jaime rubs his face. "How's my Dear Sister? I heard the heat got to her today."

"Yes." His brother sniffs. "We're going with the heat for now."

"Oh no." He catches his meaning immediately.

"Oh yes." Jaime smirks.

"Aren't you two getting a little old for this?" The Warden of the North's face is wrinkles up in irritation.

"Why yes, Dear Brother, we are. Thank you for reminding me." He snorts. "Care to join us for an impromptu strategy session?"

"Sansa is meeting with Jon. So yes. I'd love to not be alone in my tent." His little brother sighs.

"Try not to remind my wife we're too old to be having babies." Jaime narrows his eyes at him pleadingly.

"I'll hold my tongue." He chuckles.

…

"This whole nonsense is our fault anyhow." Jon mumbles running his hand over his face.

"How's that?" Sansa hisses.

"The Dothraki is what kept the Ghiscari at bay. We used them all up for a war of our own. The plague probably originated from them, or from the UnSullied." He snorts. "In saving Westeros we destroyed Essos."

"We didn't bring the Dothraki West. We didn't march the UnSullied into unknown lands."

"I asked her to." Jon murmurs.

"She would have anyway." Sansa snaps.

"When are you going to stop placing the blame for everything at her feet?" He growls.

"When are you going to stop so readily taking all of it from her?!" She raises a sharp eyebrow and Jon goes silent. "You're such a brooder. You always have been."

Jon doesn't disagree.

"I heard your Kingsguard lost herself to the heat today, that's unlike her."

"She's pregnant." Jon inhales deeply.

"You brought her here-?"

"She didn't know. I actually think she just found out today." He rubs his face.

"But you knew?"

"I suspected. It's the third time, I know the signs." He chuckles. "She gets paranoid, about my safety and about Ser Jaime's. If possible she wears her emotions even more tightly on her face. She gets snippy with Arya."

"I must always seem pregnant to you then." She teases.

"You glow." He tells her, leaning back and giving her a fatherly glance. "You were born for it. My Lord Commander was born for the battlefield, not this. Motherhood becomes you."

"Stop it Jon! You make me miss my babies." She blinks.

"You've sent them West?" He asks her protectively.

"The Rock's the safest place for them. Jaime is sending the boys." She whispers. "If we fail-."

"We won't." Jon tells her, his back drawing up sharply.

…

"You trying to pace us Dear Sister?" Tyrion asks her raising an eyebrow. "Match us heir for heir?"

"If that's it Tyrion, I bold request a cease fire and that you never go near Sansa again." She whispers.

"I thought the twins would be it for her, but she's already decided that Rickon needs a brother." He sniffs. "Or two."

"Gods that woman." Brienne shakes her head, swallowing hard.

"You're telling me." He sniffs. "How's it coming with the two of them?"

"Arya's trying to find something to move this along before the North can't keep their swords in their sheaths any longer." The Lord Commander tells him. "Jaime's obsessed with the plague and how it seems to play into the Ghiscari's fortune."

"He's got a point there." Tyrion sighs. "What was left of the Dothraki was easily cut down by the plague. It weakened the other army's that may have made headway against them."

"They've lost people too." Brienne shakes her head. "I agree with the Grand Maester, it's a simple case of the people of Essos' being less hearty against the ails of Westeros. It happens. It's why we've been so careful not to allow cross contamination. Why we've relied for heavily on Yara for supplies."

"Has he tried to convince you to go home yet?" He raises his eyes brow.

"He knows better." She says softly. "I'm sure his tongue is sore from biting back the words, but he only tells me with his eyes."

"It's not a horrible idea." The Imp reminds her.

"It's not." She smiles. "But I'm still Lord Commander, and we're trying to prevent a war." She runs her hand across her abdomen and Tyrion can't help but notice that upon inspection the pregnancy shows. "And I'm probably too far along for a trip home anyhow. I guess I could go to Tarth, but is that going to be any safer if this turns?"

"Probably not."

"I'll be okay. I worked up until a month before with Renly." She smirks. "Pod and Jaime won't let me do much of anything anyway."

"Tyrion stop harassing my bride and come tell your good sister you can control your forces!" Jaime snorts, stomping away from the table where Arya stands, her hands braced..

"Duty calls." He chuckles.

"The woman is incessant." Her husband grumbles as he crosses paths with his brother. He stops before the bed, blinking at her with his creased eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm alright." She whispers, as he lifts a pitcher and pours her a cup of water. She reaches out both hands, taking the cup with one and pulling at his fingers with the other. Jaime sits beside her on mattress with a huff. "How are you?"

"I'm feeling quite old actually." He murmurs, grinning as she spits some of the water back at him with an incredulous look. "You think that's funny?"

"It's just unlike you." She grins back through her fingers as she coughs.

"I'm fifty three." He raises an eyebrow.

"I know how old you are." She's still grinning.

"It's old to start again."

"Well ready or not." She hums.

"Tyrion and Sansa don't even try to prevent babies, we half heartedly try and end up with the same number."

"They're younger, and apparently not finished." She tells him. "We are."

"You said that last time." He grinned, moving his hand to her stomach with a shake of his head.

"I meant it too." She presses her palm to it.

…..


	23. Chapter 23

**Eleven years into King Jon's Reign during The Bloodless War.**

**On Essos' South Western Shore. (Part two- six weeks later)**

….

"Jon?" Samwell Tarly ducks into the tent with his King's informal name falling from his lips, only to find he's most definitely not alone. Jon raises his eyes at Sam who clears his throat, giving him a worried look. "Your Grace.." He murmurs, nodding to Sansa, then to the Gishcari High Priest. "Your Highness." He looks down at the paper in his hands before handing it over.

Sansa watches Jon's face as he reads, his eyes pinching together before turning to his sister, and slipping it to her. She has to bite her tongue to keep from gasping.

"Gather everyone." He tells her softly, touching her hand. She nods as she rises, her eyes never leaving the High Priest.

"Stay with him." She whispers to Podrick Payne on her way out of the tent. "Sam, with me please."

"Volantis has fallen." Jon tells his Gish counterpart, his eyes pinched.

"To whom?" The man startles, Jon notices, eyes pressing deep into his.

"To the plague."

…

"Where's Arya?" Jon demands as he stomps into the tent.

"Jaime's gone to find her." Brienne tells him, moving another chair from along the edge of the tent wall.

"My newly appointed Master of War still thinks he's my sister's glorified squire." He hisses."Her stupidity in wandering off in situations like this is wearing thin." The King grumbles looking at Sansa. "We'll have to share your Hand."

"Good thing he's quite versatile." Sansa mumbled, gesturing for her husband to sit between her and Jon. Tyrion smirked at her. "What do we know?"

"The Triarch's are dead and what's left of the Tigers are slaughtering the Elephants." Arya's voice rose as she clamored into the space with

Jaime at her heels. "That's what the people are telling in the streets."

"Do we send aid?" Sam asked quickly.

"To whom exactly?" Brienne rubbed at her face. "I don't really want to pick a fight with the Tigers."

"I agree." Lord Commander of the Queen's Guard Beren Tallhart exchanged a quick nod with his counterpart.

"So we do nothing, giving the Gish another gain?" Tyrion sighs, his frustration evident.

"There's nothing we can do anyhow. The plague is untreatable." Maester Theomore tossed his hands into the air.

"If that's what this is." Jaime mumbled, raising an eyebrow at Arya.

"He was surprised." Jon whispers, looking back over his shoulder at Jaime. "When I made the announcement. The High Priest. He was surprised."

Jaime seemed to consider it for a moment, his eyes clicking to his wife. She bit at her lip.

"Gishcar has wanted to defeat Volantis for centuries." Theomore shook his head, looking at his cousin.

"Again, what proof do we have?" Arya raises any eyebrow at Jaime like it's a challenge. He shakes s head.

"I told you, it's nothing but a feeling."

"I tend to trust Jaime's instincts on things such as this." Tyrion sighs, looking at his wife.

"There are people smarter than us out there that think it's a plague." Meera Reed casts her suspicious eyes over the crowd. Jaime swallows back whatever he's going to say about this glorified swamp creature when he sees Arya's head shake.

"I appreciate that our Masters of Wars have differing opinions Jon, however I'm not sure the origin is any of our concern. It's the influence. The Gish will take Volantis. That leaves Bravoss and Myr, correct?" She looks at Tyrion who nods. "Once they take them, what's to stop them from crossing a very Narrow Sea? Sansa asks her, her head tilting on its axis to face her brother.

…..

Tyrion finds his brother in the war tent staring at a map of Essos, his eyes bloodshot and his posture hunched.

"Have you found all the answers?" He whispers slowly. "Did the map maker blend them into the water of the Narrow Sea? Should I get you an eyeglass?"

"You mock me." Jaime exhales slowly.

"Where's your Lady?"

"She's at the docks. She's taken to personally overseeing our supply shipments. It's her pregnancy paranoia getting the best of her, she hast to have all the control instead of most. It happens in the last few months, every time."

"I meant your other Lady." He grins.

"Arya is off being Arya." His brother doesn't look up from the map. "She's no Lady, and not my concern anymore. Just the thorn in my side."

"Is this your pregnancy paranoia? Maps?"

"Look at it Tyrion." Jaime rolled his fingers across the little red beads that marked the plague on the map. "It makes no sense."

"Explain it to me." He sighs.

"It should be fluid, moving like lava. A natural disaster." He gestures at it. "But it moves more like arrows shot from a bow, landing and spreading and stopping when it meets some unknown boundary, like an attack. " His head shakes again. "This is no plague."

"The Maesters-."

"Sam is a wonderful man, educated and kind. This is not his area." Tyrion sees a glimpse of the old Jaime in his flippant Lannister tone.

"He has known war."

"Wildling and White Walker wars, not strategy of noblemen with a history rich of battles behind them."

"And Theomore?" Tyrion raises his eyebrow.

"You should have left him in White Harbor and gotten yourself a better maester. Our cousin is an idiot." He sneered. "I'm beginning to think that's the gene pool that made me the stupidest Lannister. It makes me wonder about our Dear Mother."

"Don't talk ill of our dead mother Jaime, no matter how irritated you are." Tyrion huffed.

"Sorry." He sniffs, not sounding at all sorry.

"You should take a break, you look like shit." Tyrion announces dramatically, and Jaime coughs out a laugh before turning to him.

"It's Ren's sixth name day." He rubs his hand down his face, returning to the version of Jaime he loves. "And we're halfway across the world." He blinks at his brother. "Looking at a plague and seeing a weapon that I have no idea how to beat. It's been nearly six months already. Will we be home before he turns seven?"

….

The jars are beautiful. That's what she's thinking as she moves the wooden box across the docks and sets them on the pallet for things that have already been through inspection and cleaning. They're a fine thin pottery that looks almost clear. She runs her hand across one carefully looking it it's perfectly curved shape.

Another wooden pallet drops heavily beside her, shaking the jars violently, her hand surges forward as they crash together.

"Sorry Ser." The other worker mumbles as she hears the shattering sound and feels the hot heat against her palm. She flinches back, the tear in her skin widening as it runs across the edge. The clear liquid from the broken container splashes up against her arm, dotting her tunic. It smells smokey, like a boar on a spicket over a hickory fire. She inhales it deeply, her eyes blinking against the burn that hits her. She's sure there is a puff of smoke before she turns her face away coughing. When she turns back the air is clear.

"You alright?" Podrick gives her a quick look and she can feel the blood running from her clenched hand, flowing out from between her fingers.

"Yes. Yes." She sighs, running her hands across her rounded abdomen."I just cut myself."

He winces at the blood.

"You should get that clean." He tells her and she tries not to roll her eyes. He's over protective when she's with child, she's relieved he hasn't yelled for someone to fetch a maester or bring a cart around.

"Take over for me?" She gives him a small smile, her unbloodied hand curving under her belly. She'll never admit how tired she is, not to him, not to her exhausted war worn husband and probably not even to herself.

"Of course." He nods and she smiles at him. When she's pregnant she always thinks of how Podrick was really her first child. Even before Jaime pushed Ty into her arms, he'd given her a child, she'd already been a mother in some weird sense. He tilts his head. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Fine." She tells him, touching him with her good hand and moving back up the hill towards the encampment.

…

It's the strangest feeling in the world, staring at your own body and not feeling it at all. She moves her fingers across the palm of her left hand again. Nothing. The angry cut seems to be mocking her. The deep ache is still there, but yet no sensation on the actual skin. She dabs at it again. She must have damaged something. It must have gone deeper than she thought.

She blinks. Then blinks again harder, like it will clear her muddled mind. So odd. The baby moves again, and she looks down at her stomach, seeing the faint ripples of his foot or elbow press out. She feels almost drunk. She needs more sleep. She shakes her head hard in an attempt to regain her senses.

She doesn't need this now.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you. I sent Sam all the way down to the docks and they said you'd left. I went to the-." She pulls her gaze towards the incessant rambling and he stops. "What happened?"

She doesn't have time to answer before he's in front of her, holding her hand up to his face and examining it.

"Shit." He mumbles. "This probably needs a stitch."

"It's fine." She says, marveling at how normal her voice sounds.

"I don't think it is." He grimaces. She looks at his face, tugging her hand back.

"What's wrong?"

"There was another ugly outburst today at the treaty meeting." He rolls his eyes pulling her hand back. "Will you at least let me wrap it?"

She nods and he's moving them to the basin and holding up the ointment. He smirks at her and unscrews the cap as she holds the jar.

"About?" She prompt as he washes the area again before applying the salve and wrapping the cloth around it.

"Women and their place in a civilized society." He looks up at her, his eyes rolling. "It doesn't hurt?"

"What?"

"You didn't even flinch." He wrinkles his nose at her.

"I told you, I'm fine." She tries to pull her hand away but he grips at her wrist. "So, what was decided our place in civilized society is?"

"Sadly nothing. They were insulting and Sansa and Yara both withdrew with objection and refused to return. Jon refused to go on without them. Now they're in freaking formation-." Her spine stiffens to alert, and she feels the weirdest jolt of… something not quite like pain, up her spine. This time she winces.

"Why didn't you start with that?" She hisses, pulling away roughly. The room sways as she grabs her breast plate. She can't fully wear armor now, she's too heavy with child, but if she keeps the lacing loose and holds her cloak just right, an non observant person won't see the difference.

"Because we still have time and you were bleeding all over the damn ground?."

"Who's with Jon?" She huffs, pulling at the laces with her single functioning hand. Her heart beat has filled her ears now and she's quite sure would faint if not for her sheer will.

"Gilreen. Are you alright?" He reaches for her.

"I have to go." She snaps, still struggling with her breastplate.

"Let me help you." He snaps back. "I know a few things about working with one hand." He pushes hers away and pulls at the leather. "The more hurried you are the longer it takes. There." Brienne has the oddest desire to sink into his body and make him hold her. He must see something in her face, his eyes softening and his mouth drawing flat. He brings his hand to her chin. "Are you alright?"

"It's just a cut." She hears her Lord Commander voice the same way he does and his hand drops away with a nod.

"Yes Ser." His tone is clipped, and even though he's not really her subordinate any longer. It's meant to pull her back to him, to disarm her. She doesn't seem to notice.

"Are you coming or not?" She calls as she makes her way out the tent flap.

…

Jon and the High Priest seem to be in some type of stand off, it looks more like two men bored at a social gathering then an impending battle. He sighs, letting his eyes slip over the crowd. Sansa is rod straight, next to Yara who looks as if she might skin someone. Arya shifts beside him and it distracts him for just a second, he might have even leaned in to mutter something to her if his eyes hadn't fallen on his wife.

He feels something rip at him when he sees her, a hot feeling that courses through him. She's sheet white, beads of sweat on her brow, her eyes dilated and unfocused.

He watches her body sway almost imperceptibly to anyone who was not watching, but he's seen her go down before. It's a common event for her in pregnancy, but this isn't that. He must have made some kind of noise because Arya's face snaps to his, then across the field to where his eyes are trained, suddenly alert.

"Shit." She mutters as he tries to peel away without anyone noticing, moving carefully around the back of the group before speeding his stride. She doesn't flinch when he grasps her arm; doesn't startle. The heat in his gut turns to ice.

"Pod." He whispers to the man beside him, his voice low and deadly. "You're on the King now."

"Ser?" He mutters facing forward.

"Stay on Jon." He grumbles, weaving his lame arm around his wife's chest. Podrick looks up, his eyes taking in his Lord Commanders pallor.

"Jaime.." Brienne's voice comes out in a slow labored breath. "Something's-."

"I know." He tells her softly in her ear. "I've got you." He's pulling her back, slipping her behind her former squire before looking back a the man. "Stay on the King." He tells him seriously. His eyes meet Arya's who gives him a firm nod before focusing a second on Pod, before her gaze settles on her brother. He pulls her back towards the nearest tent.

"I can't.." Her words come out softly, but he can hear the fear in them as her body becomes heavier against him. Lannister mutters out a curse before bracing himself as she goes slack, positioning his arms so he can cradle her against him. He can't remember the last time he's carried her. He's lifted her, grasped her, and tossed her, but it's been years, maybe a decade, since he's _carried_ her. He's relieved to find he still can, at least now, when his adrenaline is racing through his body like wildfire.

He stumbles the two of them into the Maester tent where Tarly looks up with a start.

"What happened?" The Maester rises quickly as Jaime tosses the gold cloak to the floor.

"I don't know." He yelps, pulling off the breast plate he'd just secured an hour before, touching her face. "She's on bloody fucking fire." He pushes his palm into her cheek and winces.

Sam's by his side in an instant, he feels it too. He lets go and grabs the basin. Jaime is unbuttoning her shirt and peeling it away. She stirs in protest then.

"Shhh.. It's me. It's me." He tells her, watching the hitch in her breathing.

"Jaime somethings wrong." She mumbles. "I feel.." Her body writhes slightly under his hands and Sam hands him a washcloth.

"Do you have pain?" The Maester asks her softy, his hand coming down to rest on her abdomen. He finds it reassuringly soft.

"No." She shakes her head. "I can't-." Her unfocused eyes land on her husband as he moves the cloth across her neck. She hisses at the coolness. "Cold."

"You've got a fever." He says by way of explanation, her face wrinkles, her eyebrows drawing tightly. Her restlessness increases and her hands grab against his jerkin before she hisses and pulls it away. He grabs her wrist, suddenly remembering the injury. "She cut her hand."

"Infection." Sam sounds relieved, but he hasn't seen what Jaime's seen. He stares at it, his mouth agape. Sam has already started rattling off what herbs he'll give her.

"This is no infection." His voice rasps out of him, and the Maester looks puzzled, before he sees the palm. The gash has deep back and purple edges hiss back tiny red blisters dotting the rest of it.

"How long ago-?"

"An hour. Maybe two." He swallows hard. Sam shakes his head. Tarly voices what Jaime can already see.

"It's the plague."


	24. Chapter 24

**Eleven years into King Jon's Reign during The Bloodless War.**

**On Essos' South Western Shore. (Part three)**

….

Tyrion rounds the corner, his stunted legs following the whooshing sound of tents dropping faster than he would have thought possible, until he reaches the perimeter that had been set up around the Maester's tent.

"Sorry sir. No one beyond this point." The Kingsguard drops his sword, blocking the man's path.

"By whose order?" He huffs.

"Maester Tarly, we're to secure the area and burn everything unessential."

"Good thing I'm from the North then. I don't have to obey Samwell Tarly or his King" He presses out, stepping over the blade and continuing on. "I'm married to a queen. I do as I damn well please."

"Jaime?" Tyrion calls, pulling back the flap.

"Oh for seven hells." Sam whines. "What part of quarantine don't you people understand." He glanced up to see Arya, his brother's partner in crime, standing stiffly at the table, smirking back at the Maester. "Who's going to advise the monarchy if both Hands fall to the Plague?"

"This is not a plague." Jaime snaps angrily, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he leans over the cot stroking his wife's face as she thrashes. He grabs her wrist, turning it towards Tyrion. "This is poison" The other man winces, leaning forward to look at it.

"We have no proof-."

"I eat everything she eats. I sleep where she sleeps. I press my tongue into her mouth as often as she'll let me." He raises a frantic eyebrow. "Explain to me how I haven't gotten it!"

"The docks." Tyrion looks up at him. "You said she was at the docks."

"She's eight months pregnant. You really think that any of her men are going to let her touch anything that hasn't been cleaned and cleared?" He rears back and rakes his good hand through his hair, smacking his gloved wooden one against the tent pole. Tyrion winces as it clangs loudly.

"Jaime." Her voice stills him, and he drops back towards her as she reaches for his face. "Be calm.."

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

"Shh.." She rubs at his cheek for a second before blinking hard.

"I knew this wasn't-." He's almost whimpering to her. Tyrion watches his brother's guilt with morbid curiosity. "I should have been more insistent. I should have made them-."

"We need to know the source." Arya told him.

"We need to know the antidote!" He yells at her.

"Shh.. Jaime. Stop." Brienne grasps his chin. "The jars."

"The what?" He whispers, his hand clasping hers and pressing his mouth to her knuckles.

"At the docks. I cut myself on-." She shakes violently and Jaime's face breaks, Tyrion winces and looks away. "Ask Pod. It's the jars."

Tyrion looks at Arya, she's looking at Jaime before she nods and slides out of the tent.

"Okay." His brother coos softly. "Rest now."

"Jaime.." It's a warning.

"I'll calm. I'll calm." He exhales slowly, kissing her hand again before settling onto the stool next to the bed.

"How is she?" Tyrion asks Sam, the Maester swallows hard.

"Not good."

"The baby?"

"No way of knowing." He shakes his bearded face and Tyrion feels the weight of all this in his guts. "We're treating what we can, but-."

The Hand of the Snow Queen nods once before looking back at his brother. Jaime has their joined hands pressed against his forehead as he sniffs. Brienne's thumb slowly trembling as she strokes his temple.

"Keep me apprised" He tells Tarly.

"You shouldn't leave this area." He tells him weakly.

"Did you not hear my brother?" He whispers at him through clenched teeth. Tarly rubs his face.

"You should at least bathe before touching your queen."

"I'll try to refrain from pressing my tongue in her mouth." He hisses.

….

Pod tells her that the jars were for the Gish, she'd considered going through official channels, but she knows that would take precious time negotiating and she doesn't have that. What she has is a bag full of faces, Needle and nimble feet. She's made it past their lines, heading to their staff. The jars are either meant to be for food or for hygiene, so she figures cooks and maids are a solid start.

Cooks make the most sense. So she's standing in their kitchen dressed as a young serving girl, her eyes from someone else's face scanning slowly back and forth until she sees what she thinks Pod has described on a counter.

"What are these?" She asks innocently.

"Spices. A gift from Naath." The man snips.

"Are we to use them?"

"Tomorrow there will be boar." He tells her. "Now on with your work girl."

She acts as if she'll move off as he resumes his stride. Arya carefully plucks the four jars from the counter, wraps them and places them in the padded bag she's carried under her apron.

…

"What of the broken one?" Theomore asks, peering at the jars on the table that had been set up outdoors.

"Podrick said one of the men tossed it near the shore. He sent someone to look."

"And the man that handled it?" The Northern Maester's eyebrow rose. "He's not showing symptoms?"

"Seems fine." Arya nods. "Samwell looked him over."

"So it's because it broke the skin then." The man murmurs to himself.

"Tarly says there are blisters in her nasal passages and down her throat." Arya responds.

"It's possible it smelled nice." He sighs. "I'll need to talk with her."

"Samwell thinks it's best that you stay away. Just in case this is transferable." She tells him.

"It's not." He shakes his head.

"We know." She looks at him gravely. "Ser Jaime has always known. You should stay away."

"He's angry?"

"That is not a strong enough word. Write down your questions. I'll take them to him."

She is still there in the clearing with him when Pod appeared.

"Ser Topham found the remains of the jar." He swallows, his voice rasping. "Everything around it was dead. The moss the grass, the insects.. dead."

"Please tell my cousin I'm sorry I didn't take his concerns into stronger consideration." Maester Theomore asks Arya softly. She lowers her head, gesturing for Pod to follow.

….

"How is she?" Tyrion turns towards his good brother with a wince.

"Not good, Your Grace." He tells him gravely. "Labor started this afternoon. They've put her under as much as they safely can with the baby, trying to slow it."

"She's known for long labors." Jon remembers.

"Yes." Tyrion nods. "Long and hard. They're trying to encourage it to be long, but not as difficult. She'll need strength if she makes it to delivery."

"If?" Jon looks past him at where his brother remains on the stool, his face pressed into his wife's shoulder, his hand brushing her hair as she restlessly sleeps.

"She's not expected to survive, Your Grace." Tyrion tells him blankly. His King swallows hard. "Tarly suspects the inflammation will track into her lungs and kill her. He hasn't much hope for the babe either. It's early yet."

"Your brother?"

"Defiant as always." Tyrion grins sadly. "Says Tarly's yet to be right about anything so far." Jon's lips slip into a grin.

"He's not wrong." He smiles. His good brother looks over his shoulder, Jon turns to find his youngest sister standing there.

"Jon." She looks somewhat worriedly into the tent at Jaime. "The Gish are ready to receive us."

He nods before turning to Tyrion.

"You coming?" The half man's head bobs as he slips off the chair and follows silently.

…

"Jaime.." Her voice sounds foreign in her own ears. His head lifts just enough to let her know he's heard her. "I'm dying."

"You're not." He tells her, faking a smile. "You're sick, but your not dying. The poison is meant to be ingested-." She winces at him, her hand tracing his jaw. "It's-."

"Stop." She whispers. "I have things to say."

"I refuse to hear them." He tells her, catching her hand and pulling it from his face. He looks at her fingers instead of her eyes. "You need to rest. Tell me later."

"Jaime you have to-." Her voice hitches when she feels the familiar pain ripple through her abdomen and he wordlessly releases his hold on her hand and moves his palm across her torso soothingly. She grips at his wrist as her eyes clench shut. "How long-?" She asks in confusion, the strength of the contraction and his immediate reaction to it let her know this was expected.

"A few hours." He tells her softly, stroking as her body peaks and starts to settle. "Sam's kept you sleeping."

"Hours." It's real then, not practice, not stoppable."It's too soon."

"I thought you were dying anyway." He sniffs, his eyes returning to her face.

"Jaime." Her voice is full of irritation and he smiles.

"That's it. Stay angry at me." He pulls his hand back down until her fingers twine again with hers.

"I'm not-. I need to tell you-." Sam appears over his shoulder with a cup and she narrows her eyes at him. "Jaime..no."

"You're too weak for this battle." Her husband tells her. "You need to rest, so you can bring this child into this fucked up world." He moves his stump behind her head, lifting it enough to press the cup to her lips. "We'll talk later."

The world blurs and she feels his lips on her forehead.

She dreams she's being crushed by an Undead Giant like Lyanna Mormont. She's thrashing at it with Oathkeeper and screaming. She can hear Jaime's voice from somewhere soothing her, telling her to hold on. That it's almost over. That he's here with her. That she's going to be okay. But all she can think is that she's going to die. She's going to die. She is going to die.

The world becomes more real, more concrete and she realizes he's holding her tightly to his chest as she surges off the cot. Gilly is between her thighs and the woman's husband paces in the background.

"The baby hasn't come down." The midwife says over what Brienne realizes is her own scream.

"Jaime." Her throat is raw and she can taste the coppery residue of blood in her mouth as she swallows. "What's-? I-." The giant is back, he takes any breath she has for speaking as he comes. Her hands claw at her husband's tunic as her body convulses on it's own. _Pushing_. She realizes suddenly. _She's already pushing_.

One hand goes to the back of her thigh without thinking, pulling it into her chest like she has twice before. Jaime's eyes flash with something akin to pride and he drops his forehead to hers.

"There she is." He sighs into her ear. "There's my warrior. You can do this."

She's not sure she can.

…..

Arya is steadfast in the doorway, her eyes on her former guard and his wife. She's stayed close, she knows if the Lord Commander succumbs, it will fall on her or Tyrion to contain Jaime.

When she let Jaime's brother know this, her sister had turned a horrible shade of white and burst into uncharacteristic tears. Tyrion had decided to remain with her, so here she was.

The Gish were confused, enraged, and grateful that the plot had been discovered. Jon had made a point of saying that two women had been instrumental in keeping their entire entourage from feasting upon poisoned boar. They hadn't seemed impressed.

Brienne cries out again, which Arya takes as a good sign. Dead women don't scream. Tarly looks terrified, his tiny wife less so. Arya figures Caster's daughter had seen her fair share of difficult births in her life, and probably her fair share of dead sisters.

"I can't." Brienne collapses sideways into her husband, her body going slack. "I can't do it."

"Just one or two more." He lies. Arya can see the baby's head still appearing and disappearing with each surge. That's not a baby one push away, not even for a strong woman like Brienne, who at the moment, looks weaker than Arya has ever known her.

"Jaime I swear to you, I can't." Her body presses forward automatically with the next contraction but she doesn't aid it in any way. "I can't, I'm sorry. I-."

"Help her." Gilly says softly. "Get behind her. Use your weight." Jaime gives her a quick look of terror, but he complies. Arya's eyes widen as he climbs onto the cot. With the next contraction the two of them practically bend the woman's body in half, Gilly pressing back her thighs as Jaime leans her forward. Gilly grabs his right forearm and positions it at the round apex of her abdomen. "Push with her, down towards my hands. Steady and firm till I say stop."

Brienne doesn't scream anymore, she simply moans her head tucked against Jaime's throat as he and Gilly work in tandem. Tarly has turned away completely. Arya couldn't, no matter how much she wants to.

"There. There." Gilly yelps, her hand coming free of Brienne's thigh and grabbing at the baby's head. She jerks it down far my violently then Arya thinks is necessary and it squeals in protest as she pulls it free. "A boy." She yells.

"Of course." Arya startles as Tyrion is suddenly by her side. "It's always a boy with them."

"Sam." She grabs her husband and pushes him back towards Brienne's open thighs. She's frantically unbuttoning her shirt and the next thing Arya knows she's shoved the smallest baby she's ever seen inside it and between her breasts, turning his head up and out. Sam bustles about, disconnecting the baby from it's mother and as soon as she's able to move to the table slapping a hat on the infant and pressing a blanket on top of herself. She rubs at him vigorously and he whimpers and sputters out a weak little cry. "That's it." She whispers. "That's it."

"Is he?" Jaime sounds farther away then he is.

"Alive." She calls back. "He's alive."

"A name." Jaime pants, leaning against the tent poll, Brienne's head lulls back against his right shoulder and he cradles her neck in his remaining palm. "He needs a name."

"It's your turn." She tells him, her voice like liquid exhaustion.

He wrinkles his eyebrows for a second before he nods.

"Jon." He tells her, and her face slips into a smile. "We'll name him Jon."

Arya gulps softly against the sudden tightness in her throat as Jaime Lannister kisses his wife softly.

"Sleep." He whispers. "You need to sleep."

His flesh fingers slip around to her neck and he slides them around her sweat soaked skin until he finds what he's looking for. Wetting his lips and letting his eyes sink shut against what she realizes is the steady beat of her pulse. His breathing slows as he presses his lips to her forehead. The look like collapsed soldiers after a battle.

Sam has finished with Brienne and he pulls a blanket to her waist before joining his wife.

"Bleeding?" She asks quickly.

"Normal." He tells her. She pulls her shirt back a little and he looks at the babe.

"He's strong." Gilly whispers as his little face bobs against the side of her breast. The two exchange worried glances. "Maybe I'll be able to?" She looks at Sam he winces. "Enough for a newborn."

"It's been seven years since you've put a babe to breast." Sam shakes his head.

"Sansa can."

Tyrion's voice rings out so clearly, but Arya can't understand what he's saying. The twins are five. She can't possibly still be nursing. She isn't their fucking Aunt Lysa. He meets Sams eyes.

"There was a loss." He announces grimly. "Just before we arrived here. She still-. She can.." He reaches out his hand and grips Gilly's arm. "Come."

Arya follows them back to her sisters tent, because she finds she can't not. She stands outside and watches through the flaps as Tyrion approaches her gently, whispering something. She hadn't stopped crying yet, her little sister realizes, but she wails at his words, louder still when Gilly pulls the tiny babe from her shirt and helps her get him settled in Sansa's. Tyrion climbs to sit on the table beside the chair she's in, stroking her hair as she sobs. Gilly pulls the blankets around her as Brienne and Jaime's tiny baby suckles at her sisters breast.

…

"You could have told us." Jaime whispers softly from where they sit on the floor, leaning against Tarly's desk.

"It's not something you send in a raven for." He rubs his face. "Or lean over a treaty table and whisper."

"Brienne said you and she talked about children. It would have been an appropriate moment."

"On the day she finds out she's pregnant?" His eyebrows arched and he looked at his older brother like he was insane. "That's the day I tell her?" His voice picked up in pace the way it did when he was talking about a difficult thing.

"'A baby! How nice, Dear sister! My wife woke from a nap just a few months ago with a shiny thin skinned eel of a thing between her knees. Let me tell you how it twitched when you touched it until it suddenly didn't, or how we had to pry her hands off the thing after three days, and how bits of it stuck to her chest. Oh and Congratulations.'" Jaime was looking at him like he might be ill. "Sansa is strong. She recovers from losses and horrors better than anyone. Your babe will help her heal from this one." He patted Jaime's hand. "And if on the small chance that you need us to be, we will be here for you and the boys." His brother swallowed hard. "You will not be alone, Jaime. We will be here. Do you understand me?"

The older man's chin trembled as he nodded, batting angrily at his eyes.

"He said your baby might die overnight and he lived. He's going to outlive that fat little twit by decades, you'll see."

Jaime snorted out a laugh starting to sob. His face tipping forward and onto Tyrion's shoulder.

"Oh Jaime." He sighed, cupping the back of his head. "I'm so sorry."

….

"You'll take them to Sansa." Brienne tells him.

"Stop."

"Don't let them be motherless, Jaime. You know what that's like. Take them to Sansa." Her breath rattled out of her chest as she spoke and he closed his eyes and pressed his face into the mattress at her neck.

"I won't."

"You could marry." She wheezes. "You and Arya have a kind of love…"

"Fucking Hells Brienne, shut up." He growls, his hand pressing into her hair.

"Don't close yourself off. Don't do that. You'll want to. I wanted to when I thought-. I wanted to end it." Her words are staccatos with her breath and it makes his chest hurt.

"I will." He tells her, his voice like a child. "I'll close myself off if I damn well please. I throw myself out of the windows of the Rock. I'll do it in front of the boys before they're sent off to the fucking North."

"Don't be hateful, Love." She whispers, her fingers resting on his damp cheek.

"I'll be anyway I wish." He snaps. "If your so keen on leaving me you don't get a say." He hisses and she carefully moves to face him so she can press her dry lips to his snot covered face. "You want to die, I can't stop you, but I won't give you my bloody permission!" He sobs. Since he's started with Tyrion he can't seem to stop. "I won't soothe your conscious. You and I both know I'd be destroyed, the boys destroyed. You have to live."

"Darling." She whispers. "I'll try. I'm trying. I am."

"You have to live." He sobs.

….

"He'll die if she does." Arya says softly. They sit together on a log in a clearing outside his tent as Sansa nurses baby Jon. Tyrion looks at her with understanding.

"Probably." He sighs.

"He can't live for himself." She blinks.

"He never has. He wouldn't even know how." Tyrion adds. "He lived for Cersei, and every horrible thing he did was for Cersei. Then he lived for Brienne and every blessedly honorable thing he's done since has been for her. He's never been just Jaime. He wouldn't know what that was."

"He blames himself. For not holding his ground, about it not being a plague." She looks at the dusky sky. "We should have believed him."

"Would it have mattered? If we would have acted we would have acted on the Gish, started a war. And it wasn't even the Gish."

"The Naath are a peaceful people Tyrion." Arya shook her head.

"Not all of them." Came a rumbling voice from behind them as Davos came to sit. "Grey Worm. He ended up there after Danerey's was killed. Apparently he's convinced a few hundred of his closest friends to join him."

"The remaining Unsullied." Tyrion's mouth falls open.

"And a handful of fast multiplying Dothraki." The older man adds.

"Revenge." Arya shakes her head. "We should have known it was about revenge."


	25. Chapter 25

**Sorry fixed it. :)**

**Eleven years into King Jon's Reign during The Bloodless War.**

**On Essos' South Western Shore. (Part four-one week later)**

….

"Do we have to worry about the Dragon?" Sansa asks, her face flat.

"No." Jon's voice is strong and clear. "We don't."

"You're sure?" She pushes him. "I woke up in the middle of the night worrying about dragon fire."

"I am." He looks straight ahead. "I can swear it to you, I just can't really articulate it to you.

"Can you make me understand?" She pleads.

"Drogon's loyalties don't transfer with Dany's allegiance, it's more primal, instinctual." Jon sniffs. "Besides, it's at peace."

"You can.." She pauses, trying to formulate her words. "Feel it?"

"Sort of?" He gives her a quick shrug. "It's hard to explain."

"My older brother can sense dragons. My sister wears people's faces and my younger brother is some kind of condescending, all seeing, warging dullard." She snorts. He turns to grin at her. "I'm feeling quite bereft of magical abilities right now, Jon."

"I don't know, from what I hear your keeping an infant alive." He reminds her, gesturing to the baby that is wrapped around her in a sling. She smiles at him, stroking her fingers across his fuzzy golden head. "I.. I'm sorry for your loss Sansa."

"Thank you." Her face sets into a small sad smile. "What will we do? About Grey Worm?"

"I haven't the slightest idea." He sighs. "Ser Davos thinks he can speak with him. I'm not sure. I don't understand their logic here? Use the Gish to destroy Essos, then destroy the Gish?"

"Maybe they meant to make it look like it was us? So that the Ghiscari would rise up?" She looks forward again, determined.

"Possibly, but a strong opponent needs good leadership. Destroying that leadership would be doing us a favor." He grunts. "Unfortunately the one person who's opinion on this I would most value is currently occupied."

"He'd surely come if you called for him." Sansa whispered.

"He wouldn't." Jon shook his head. "Have you seen him?"

"The Maesters don't want the baby exposed. In case there is anything that has developed secondary that could potentially harm him." Her hand goes back to the boy's head.

"It's not pretty." Jon lifted his eyes.

"I'd suppose not." She bit her lip. "He's not a strong person, not really."

"He looks worse than her."

Ahead of them, Pod pulls back a tent curtain and they take their place at the treaty table. Tyrion turns and looks at his wife with a smile before pulling the cloak to obscure the baby from view. She lets her fingers slide over his hand as he pulls it away.

…

"Sam!" Jaime's sharp voice shakes the Maester out of the book on Ghiscar he was lost in. "I need you to come." He almost rolls his eyes. SInce moving Brienne from the Maesters tent to their own he's been summoned by Jaime Lannister more times then he has by His Grace in the eleven years he's served King Jon.

"I tried to send your boy, but I couldn't find him." He spits.

"He's with Ser Pod at the negotiations today, remember?"

"That's today?" Jaime runs his hand across his scruffy face. It's been at least a week since he's had any type of hygiene.

"Yes Ser." Sam sighs patiently. "What's the problem?"

"Her breathings changed. It's.. slowed." He swallows. "And her skin is different-." Sam feels a sense of dread building in his gut. Is this the day he's going to have to take the Master of War by the shoulders and tell him it's over? That there is no more fight, there is no miracle about to occur and his wife is going to die? He hopes that she'll last through the negotiations. At least then he can have Arya and Tyrion here. "She's slept the majority of the day."

He ducks into their tent, and makes his way worriedly to the bed. She looks peaceful and for that he's grateful. He's hoping she'll just slip away, sparing her husband the dramatic ugliness death can become. He figures maybe she's the type of person that would do that. He drops to sit on the edge of the mattress, his hand brushing against her face and finding her cool. Not unpleasantly cool, but the easy kind, like a clammy child moments from waking from a nap. He leans forward, listening to her slow even breaths, watching her chest rise and fall. Her pulse thumps steadily at the pads of his fingers. She stirs at his touch, moving languidly, but not waking. Sam squints at her.

"What? What's wrong?" Jaime Lannister rocks back on his heels, his body thrumming with worry and exhaustion.

"She's…" He looks back at the woman, hearing the frantic breathing of her husband behind him. "Better."

….

"I want to be sure we all understand what we're talking about here, Your Highness. I want there to be no misunderstanding between our people. The North wants prolonged peace. My people have lived a decade in war. They have no want for it." The baby makes a squeak at Sansa's belly and she looks down quickly before rearranging him higher, her hand deftly unhooking the wrap of her dress and guiding his head into it with the practiced ease of an experienced mother. She stops to adjust her cloak around him. High Priest Hosanden's disgust is clear on his face.

"You expect me to take your sister seriously as an equal when she brings her child to teat during this?" The man asks Jon, his hand gesturing with a sneer. The King holds his face with it's usual passivity, not saying a word.

"It's not my child, Sir." Sansa continues. "It's my nephew. I'm saddened to say his care has fallen to me because his mother is quite ill. She's two weeks battling the poison plague that wiped out three fourths of your continent."

"Two weeks?" His mouth slips open, despite himself. From every account he's heard, people don't make it two weeks.

"Yes. She's quite strong. And though you have continually mocked my brother for having a woman in charge of his security, I would have you reminded that woman bested your own. She was not about to have us feast on festered boar after all. She managed to save your people as well by unlocking the mystery of where the threat had been hidden. In her spare moments since, she's been giving birth to her son and fighting for her life." She looked back at baby Jon, nestled safely in her arms. "It's the least I can do to feed her infant while we work out the details of the truce she made possible. The least you can do is not allow it to interrupt."

"It's indecent." He snorts.

"I'm sure to some." She blinks. "As Dothraki mating ritual, and the habit of cutting off young boys genitalia to make them better fighters are to us. Different cultures have different decencies. If you are to be a player on the stage with us I suggest that you learn that lesson quickly."

"And what would your husband think of your actions? Or is he simply a handsome slave bound to your castle bed used to sire heirs?" He looks at her irritatedly. Sansa smiles, turning her gaze to left, and Tyrion can't help but snort when he sees her face.

"What do you think of my actions, My Love?" She asks him unblinkingly.

"I find them quite typical of you, My Dear." He says drolly. "However this handsome slave is much more interested in what the High Priest feels is the future of his people, than in what his thoughts are about my wife's bosom or my worthiness as a sire of heirs."

The latest conqueror of Essos looks from Sansa to Tyrion with mild surprise before looking back at Jon.

"On behalf of the Sibling Kingdoms, if we've exhausted your curiosity about my younger sister's form and fertility, perhaps we could return to her question? Just to clear up any ambiguity in our truce before setting out on a joint mission?" Jon ground out, hoping that he could still look forceful beneath his decadent crown.

To his surprise, the High Priest simply nodded.

…..

She awakes to find her husband snoring open mouthed beside her. She can't help but grin.

"Look who decided to join us." Comes Tyrion's smart mouth from a chair near her bed, and she turns to him. Arya looks up from the pieces of the game they've been playing. "Oh good, she hears me! I was worried she'd lost her hearing when his snoring didn't wake her."

"I'm used to it." She reminds him, her mouth stretching into a sly grin. Something's different, she feels lighter. Tired and achy, but somehow stronger than she should. She pulls up slowly, trying not to jostle Jaime, whose hand has taken shelter it's permanent home on her hip. She closes her hand over it to hold it in place as she slides. She takes a deep breath reveling in how easy it feels. "Am I dead?" She's asks, her eyes suspect.

Tyrion laughs, but it's Arya who smirks before answering.

"Not today."

…...

"I think it's a horrible idea." Jaime growls.

"It's not. It's a show of strength." She huffs. "One that I think is necessary, especially after Sansa's little outburst."

"Oh yes. The Snow Queen speaks the truth and there for you have no choice to storm from your sick bed to reassert your dominance after you had the gaul to show volunerablity by having a fucking baby." Jaime snorts. "One you haven't even seen yet, by the way."

"Sam wants to wait just a little while longer, just-."

"Sam is a bloody idiot." He snips.

"Sam kept has kept me alive for the past-."

"Of course he has." Jaime's voice is nearly venomous, he blinks at him.

"Why are you angry at me?" Her voice is puzzled.

"I'm not!" He shouts, before exhaling slowly in surprise. "I'm not." She's frozen, watching him rub his face before slowly standing and dropping his face to hers and kissing her forehead. He doesn't look at her. "Do what you think is best."

"Jaime." She whispers after him as he makes his way to the door.

"I-. I'll be back." He brushes through the flaps of the tent, passing Arya on the way without comment.

"Sorry about that." Brienne whispers at her, the other woman blinks. "He's frustrated, with everything." She swept her hand back and forth in the air dismissively. "You know how he gets when he sits still too long. It's not good to cage a lion."

"So you're still planning on going then?" Arya says softly.

"Of course I am." She sighs, rummaging through the chest next to the bed.

"Of course you are." Arya repeats back to her. Brienne stills, her eyes clicking to the other woman's. "You've been conscious for like 13 hours now. Definitely time to suit up and go off to confront the man wHo nearly wiped out a continent, with you as collateral damage."

"I figured you'd understand better than anyone."

"I do." Arya looks at the floor for a second before huffing uncharacteristically and dropping into the nearby chair. "You're just wrong."

Brienne lifts one eyebrow with a dangerously amused smirk on her lips.

"Enlighten me, oh Wise One." She purrs.

"How much do you remember?" Arya whispers.

"Very little." Brienne looks away with a grimace.

"He remembers every last second." Arya reminds her. "It wasn't pretty. He didn't fair well."

"He's stronger than he seems." Brienne assured her.

"Not with you." The younger woman shook her head. "With a lot of things, yes. But not with you."

"I'm okay. I'm going to be okay." She reminds her. "He'll be okay too, and the sooner things get back to normal-."

"This is why I'm not the Lady of Storm's End." Arya tells her, like it makes perfect sense.

"Because Jaime likes to sulk?"

"Because I'd be the same way. I'd want to charge back into battle and I'd be too afraid of looking weak to see my husband needed me more than I needed revenge." She shook her head again, her braid swinging. "I'd probably forget about my baby too."

"I have not forgotten about my-."

"That's where he is, you know." She tells her. "Holding the baby. It's why I'm here. It's why I've been here at this time every day since the day after I stood over there and watched him and Gilly wrestle the little thing out of you." She points to the spot where she stood. "Because he wants to hold the baby, but he didn't want you to be alone. So I'd come." She shrugs. "And I could never have been the Lady of Storm's End because I couldn't possibly stand the responsibility of having anyone love me as much as Jaime loves you."

"Jaime will be fine." Brienne says softly. "This is not the first time we've argued about my work and it won't be the last, but he knows who I am. He's always known." She looks at Arya soundly. "Just as the Lord of Storm's End knows who you are."

Arya's feet scuff the dirt floor.

"But you've made your point." She smiles at the younger woman, laying her hand on her shoulder as she walks by. "Thank you, for being there for him."

…..

Brienne finds Jaime asleep on Sansa and Tyrions bed. His legs stretched out in front of him and the tiniest infant she has ever seen laying against his bare chest and a fur covering the two of them He has the same shock of blonde hair that each of her boys have had.

"They're both exhausted." Sansa whispers from the table, pressing her needle into her fabric and pulling it back out again. "It's been a long few weeks."

"It has, Your Grace." Brienne murmurs, her eyes on the steady wrinkle of Jaime's brow, even in his sleep.

"I've been taking your child to my breast, Brienne, I think we can skip the honorifics." She smiles. "I hear you want to go to Naath?"

"Arya has already made me feel like a horrible person, Good Sister. You may refrain." The Lord Commander sighs as she drops her shoulders.

"Good." Sansa blinks at her. "Then kindly take your husband and your hungry little babe and leave me be." Breinne raises an eyebrow in surprise, Sansa pretends not to notice, her eyes returning to her fabric.

"Samwell thinks it's best-."

"Samwell said repeatedly, the two of you were as good as dead." She looked back up at her. "He's not really an expert in these matters. My dear brother seemed to have things well in hand. Now remove him from my sight."

"Yes. Your Grace." Brienne teases, watching the edges of the Snow Queen's lips rise just a little. She crosses the room to Jaime, laying one hand tentatively on her son's tiny round head. "Hello there." She whispers, carefully extracting him from his father's arm. Jaime's left hand clutches at the air as Brienne raises the babe up to study him, her husband's eyes snapping open at the loss. "Look at you. Aren't you just the spitting image of your father."

"He has your eyes." Jaime's voice is thick with sleep and Brienne finds it makes her want to cry. She pulls him to her chest, and he makes a tiny little mewling sound that makes her breasts ache. She runs her fingers into Jaime's hair and he swallows back a whimper.

"Come on." She says softly. "Let's give the queen back her chambers."

….

In the end, it's decided Arya will go to Naath and both sets of Lannisters prepare to return to the Narrow Sea to the Snow Queen's private boat, a gift from Yara Greyjoy for Sansa's corniation, headed for the Rock to collect their cubs.

Brienne and Jaime are bickering about how soon is too soon to return to King's Landing when Pod pokes his head into their tent.

"Lord Commander? High Priest Hosanden would like a word." He tells her, his brown eyes wide as saucers. Jaime's back goes rod straight and he reaches the baby out towards Pod, and hands her Oathkeeper, despite the fact she's in an azure blue tunic dress and her hair is loose and in her face. She looks at him like he's insane, but finds herself strapping on the scabbard just the same.

He's at least dressed if not armed, she should have put the damn sword on him.

Jaime makes his way to the flap, giving a slight bow before opening the tent to the Ghishcari.

"Your Highness." He mumbles.

"Master Lannister." He bows slightly. "Your King told me I'd find his Lady Lord here."

"You will." He says softly, looking over his shoulder at his wife.

"I was informed you weren't going to be traveling to Naath with us." He informs Breinne with a crisp formality.

"My duties require me elsewhere, Your Highness." She tells him, giving Jaime the ghost of a smile. He nods.

"I didn't want to leave without issuing thanks on behalf of my people, for the role you have played in our survival."

"It was nothing." She tells him, causing her husband to scoff and Pod to snort. The baby lets a lusty yell when he does and Brienne finds herself turning towards them, her arms reaching out for her child. The High Priest watches her with interest as Pod hands him over.

"That's not how your people tell it." He sniffs, and she blushes in that lushious way she has that makes Jaime's insides stir.

"I'm concerned their fear for my life may have caused them to amplify my heroics a bit, Sir."

"You are, as far as we know, the only one to survive the poison. I'd say that's worth some amplification."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"Your boy?" She nods, holding Jon to her chest. "He is also well?"

"He is." She smiled, turning him outward.

"I wish nothing but peaceful partnerships between our people for his lifetime, and beyond it." The man tells her softly, nodding at the boy.

"That is our wish as well." Jaime says softly, as the man turns slowly towards him.

"I look forward to our future correspondence then Master Lannister." He sighs.

"I'll be in touch Your Highness." Her husband smiled, following the man and his people out of the tent.

"Next time perhaps We'll come to Westeros." He tells Jaime

"We'd love to receive you, Sir." He blinks, watching the Gish descend the hill and disappear into the sea of tents.

….

It takes two weeks to get to Casterly Rock and by the time they pull in to Lannisport they've caught sight of the children on the shore. Any thoughts of Kings, Kingsguard or Kings Landing has gone from Brienne's mind completely when Ren has hopped over the barricade and climbed his father like a tree before he's even off the docking ramp. And Jaime Lannister has collapsed on the ground clutching the little boy to him, his flesh fingers splayed out against his unruly blond curls.

After her father has taken the babe from her and Ty and Tom have come to greet her Jaime sits in the sand with his boy examining his missing teeth and running his hand across his freckled face.

The wildlings have found their parents and Sansa is sobbing as she clutches the twins to her and suddenly Brienne isn't sure she ever wants to return to King's Landing again.

She sees that for the first time Tyrion is looking up at his oldest girl and her heart clenches, as he reaches to push a stray lock behind her ear and she leans forward into his embrace.

She catches Jaime's gaze as he stands pulling Ren's legs around his waist to hug Tomsyl to him while Ty is examining his newest little brother like his is a work of art and her husband clasps his hand on his shoulder, pressing his lips together tightly while soft wrinkles and creases surrounding his green cat like eyes that wouldn't dare look away from hers and she relishes for just a minute that they are the Lannisters of Casterly Rock and they are home.


	26. Chapter 26

**Seven months into the Reign of King Jon.**

**...**

"I want him."

It's Arya saying it that makes him look up from the table in shock. He glances at his wife whose eyebrows have all but dissapeared into the fallen locks of hair against her forehead. His own brow furrows, she looks disheveled, she never looks disheveled. Not in public anyway.

"You want him?" Jon snorts. "For what?!"

"He can be my sworn sword." She grins wickedly. "You fear he can't offer adequate protection." She swings her hand towards the Master of Coin and Davos grimaces. "Leaving out the fact that he's saved our arses in combat more recently and frequently than you ha-."

"Arya.." Jon sighs.

"Too much truth? So very sorry, Your Grace." Jamie grins trying to cover its with his stump. He loves how when she says 'Your Grace' it somehow sounds like a jape. He looks at Brienne wanting to gage her reaction, but she's looking at the table. This worries her far more than it does him, his possible reinstatement to the Kings Guard.

"I don't need protection." She spits out the word. "I would; however, appreciate an extra set of eyes and ears." She looks at Jaime and he nods at her. "I'm rather inexperienced for a King's Hand and I would like someone to provide me council."

"And you'd like his?" Her brother blinks at her.

"Yes." She smirks. "I think I would." She looks at Brienne, but again she seems to be someplace else. "My mother did make him swear an oath to protect me. It's kind of full circle."

Jon shrugs before turning back to the other man.

"What say you, Ser Jaime?"

"It would be my honor." He graces Arya with a smile. "As long as you promise not to take my face off if i shall die in your service." Arya snorts with laughter and Jon grimaces. "I don't want it rolled up in your little satchel."

"Can we not?" Brienne looks white when he looks at her, she brings her hand up to her lips.

"Are you alright?" Jaime winces at her face and all eyes turn to look at the Lord Commander.

"Yes, of course, I'm fine." She waves her hand at him like he's ridiculous.

"You do look a bit pale, Ser." Davos says softly.

"You're not pregnant are you?" Arya asks loudly. "That would be inconvenient."

Brienne's eyes go wide and a slow grin of realization slides across Jaime's mouth.

"No." His wife shouts before her eyebrows furrow.

"You haven't asked me for Moon Tea since Winterfell." Arya announces sharply, looking at Samwell who raises his hands in silent surrender.

'I'm sorry I was busy keeping my husband alive, caring for my son and attempting to form an adequate Kings Gaurd with the scraps left behind after a fiery war."

"Celiabate the whole time I'm sure." Arya nods sharply. Jaime snorts, he's going to like being her sworn guard.

"Can we not discuss this here?" His wife hisses.

"This is the best damn small council meeting I've ever been to." Jaime chuckles, looking at the King who covers his face.

"You're not helping!" His wife whines.

"We haven't exactly been careful." He reminds her, she looks off over his head.

"Sam would you like to advise me on the policy tradition involved when one's Lord Commander finds themselves with child?" Jon groans sarcastically. His Grand Maester's mouth opens and closes like a fish. Arya laughs out loud.

"If you all could be quiet, my wife and I are counting moons." Jaime murmurs.

"Seven. Fucking. Hell's." Brienne whispers suddenly.

"Seems she's a faster counter than you." Arya japes.

Jaime licks his lips and holds up his stump.

"She's got more fingers." He's walking across the room to her side now. "If you'll excuse us for just a few moments, Your Grace."

"Take your time. We'll start lunch." Jon sighs heavily, gesturing at the servant girl in the doorway.

Jaime grasps her arm, moving her from the table and out of the room.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"Jaime." She's wide eyed and awestruck and Jaime wonders if she's ever been more beautiful. "I can't-. We can't-."

"Why not?" He asks her simply.

"I'm the Lord Commander." She tells him, as if he hadn't yet realized.

"You may need to step back from some of those demands." He nods.

"I should resign." She breathes.

"Why on earth would you do that?" His face wrinkles.

"We're having a child!" She reminds him, her face paling again.

"We already have a child." He lifts and eyebrow. "It hasn't really been a problem has it?"

She blinks at him and shakes her head, still looking like she might cry. A slight sympathetic smile softens his face and she sighs. Jaime wraps his hand around the base of her skull and kisses her forehead. Her hand lands softly against his vest.

"Are you alright?"

"I feel like shit." She tells him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

"Why didn't you say something?" He chuckles, stroking his thumb across the nape of her neck.

"I thought I was just ill." She whines again. "Not.. this."

"Pregnant." Jaime coaxes. "Say it."

"Jaime." She sighs into him.

"Try it out." His tone is light, almost teasing.

"With child.' She chooses and he can feel her words against his throat. He pulls back gently.

"Is that so awful?' His eyes are shiny with something that makes her heart beat faster.

"No." She whispers and he kisses her.

…..

"If I may, Your Grace." Jaime asks softly at his return. "Borrow the Grand Maester."

Jon nods and Sam rises, spotting Brienne sulking, blush red in the doorway. Jaime remains for a second looking at Arya and then back to Jon.

"You belong on this King's Guard more than anyone." Jon relents. "Not sure there would even be a King to guard without you."

"You're too kind, Your Grace." He mumbles.

"If Arya wants you, she's gotten you."

"Thank you, Your Grace." He looks at his new sworn charge. She's smirking back.

"Ser Jaime if you will accompany me, I think the Grand Maester and I may need your help arranging things to accommodate the recent developments in the Gaurd."

"I'd like nothing more, My Lady." He says cheekily.

"Arya is fine." She says with faked sharpness.

"As you wish, Arya." .


	27. Chapter 27

**Thirteen years into King Jon's reign.**

Jaime looked up in confusion as Janali knocked on the door frame to his study. She never came this far into their rooms in King's Landing, formality ran supreme here.

"What's wrong?" Their unflappable nanny almost looked afraid.

"You need to come down stairs, Ser." Jaime shot up from his seat and followed her.

"It's Renly and that stupid contraption again isn't it?" He muttered. "I told Pod to toss the damn thing out. Did he break anything?"

"It's nothing like that." Janali said softly. "It's Ty."

They rounded the corner into the courtyard before Jaime could ask anything else. He looked up to see his eldest living child sitting forlorned on a bench, his long gangly legs sticking out in either direction one elbow resting on each. Beside him, Amena stroked his hair. Arya stepped into his view, her eyebrows furrowed tightly.

"It's my fault." She huffed. "I didn't see them. Janali and I were talking about Cersei and I just said it. Jaime, I'm so sorry."

"Oh Gods." He sighed deeply.

"I'm-." He put up his hand to her shaking his head slowly.

"It's fine." He whispered. "It was bound to happen. Where's my wife?"

"With Jon in Dunksondale." Arya sighed. "I could ride out and take her place."

"Just catch her before she comes home. I don't want her blindsided." He shook his head again before moving towards his son.

Ty's eyes cast up at him and Amena scampered back like she'd been caught doing something wrong. Jaime smiled at the girl before sighing at his son.

"I suppose we should have a chat." He told him evenly.

…..

"I don't understand why you never told me." Ty whispered harshly, batting the tears off his face angrily. Jaime reached his hand up and cupped the back of the boys head.

"There are people who would use that information to harm us." Jaime explained. "To harm King Jon. We weren't sure when it would be safe to tell you. You saw today that grown adults can slip. We needed to know that you could keep this secret."

"I can keep it." He breathed.

"I trust you." Jaime told him.

"Like I'd want anyone to know." He growled.

"What do you need to know?" Jaime sighed.

"Who knows?"

"Our people." Jaime told him softly.

"Grandfather?" Ty croaked out the words.

"No." He told him remorsefully.

"I'm not the true heir." He shook his head. "I shouldn't get-."

"Enough." Jaime said sharply, grasping Ty's face in between his thumb and index finger. "You are your mother's son just as much so as your is just as much yours as it was yesterday. And even if by some bizarre upside down your grandfather didn't want you to have it, your mother will be the Evenstar before anyone else and she wants you to have it. Tarth is yours. It has always been yours. You chose it over the Rock, pleasing Lord Selwyn more than anything else has, ever."

Ty nodded and Jaime let go of his face. Slinging his arm over the boys shoulder and pulling him to him.

"I know you don't like to talk about her.."

"She wasn't always what she became." He breathed. "She was never kind, but she wasn't always cruel. She would have loved you." Jaime swallowed hard. "Not like your mother does, she was different. Her love wasn't free. It was possessive, it came with expectations, just like our father's had.." He stopped his ramble with a wince. "I'm not very good at this. Your mother-."

"You're better than you think." Ty sniffed, leaning in to his father's shoulder.

The two of them were still like that an hour later when Brienne stormed into the room, tears brimming on her eyelids.

"I'm so sorry. We should have told you. I love you so much-." She whispered, holding him tightly to her. "I'm so sorry my Bright Star."

"It's alright, Mum." He breathed her in deeply. "I'm alright."

"I'm sure you have questions." She pulled back, stilling her shoulders and tightening her jaw.

"Da answered them." He shook his head. "I don't have anymore right now."

Brienne raised an eyebrow at Jaime over her shoulder. He gave her a tired grin. There was a creak from the door and she turned to see Amena standing there, her dark hair hanging over her face.

"I'm-. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't." Ty said quickly looking back at his mother. "We have studies."

She bit her lip, but nodded just the same. He turned back to Jaime, tired grin still stuck to his face before hugging his mother again before heading out the door.

Brienne watched him go.

"We waited too long." Jaime told her in hushed tones.

"What did he-?"

"Tarth." Jaime couldn't help but sniff back a laugh. "All he was worried about was that he couldn't be the Evenstar."

"Of course he can be-."

"That's what I said." He swished his wooden hand through the air, the jointed fingers swinging back and forth.

"He didn't ask-?" She stopped and his eyebrows wrinkled.

"What?" He watched her face carefully.

"Nothing." She breathed sitting next to him. "Are you alright?"

"As long as Ty's-."

"Jaime." Her voice was soft and he dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling.

"I was.. I wanted to tell him good things.." He took a staggered breath. "I wanted to give him something of her."

"Of course you did." She took his hand in hers and squeezed.

"I couldn't think of anything." He whispered. "Everything I wanted to say was a half truth."

"It's complicated." She reminded him.

"Is it? Or was she just that much of a monster and I didn't see it until it was too late." He turned to look at her and she winced at his face.

"Too late for what?" Brienne asked him softly. "We stopped her. We saved Ty. We helped build a new government, a good one at that, if I do say so."

"I didn't stop her in time for Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen." Jaime swallowed, and Brienne moved her other hand to his cheek, brushing it across the coarse` hairs there. "I wasn't a father to them. I didn't protect them."

"You couldn't." She reminded him.

"I should have tried." He shook his head.

"Darling." She pressed her forehead to his. "Don't do this to yourself. They wouldn't want you to remember them like this."

"Wouldn't they?" His voice croaked out of him. "I couldn't think of one good thing to say about the woman I practically worshiped for forty years. I sired four children with her and I couldn't-." He swallowed hard and she carded her hands into his hair, as he dropped onto her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"You can talk about her." She kissed his temple. "You know that. You don't have to apologize."

"I don't want to talk about her." He whispered.

"Alright." She pressed her lips into his temple again. "Ren was out riding his 'dragon' again."

"I told Pod to hide the damn thing." Jaime muttered."He's going to get hurt."

"He doesn't mind getting hurt. He's fearless." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"He's reckless." He spit, and she hummed in agreement.

"He's your boy." Brienne reminded him softly, Jaime snorted at that.

"That he is."

"You're a good father." She pulled away from him, framing his face with her hands. "You're a good husband. You're a good man." He leaned back into her and she claimed his lips. "And I love you."

…..

Brienne watched Jaime chase Renly and his 'dragon' (pieces of fabric and wood and string around what could loosely be called a wagon) down the hill beside the White Sword Tower. Jon squealed, bouncing on his father's hip as he ran. Tom sat on the bench with Amena and Pod, covering his eyes in horror at his little brother's eminent crash. Brienne's mouth twitched into a smile. As much as Jaime had longed for a girl, he was the perfect father for their boys. She looked at Amena in silent question and she gestured behind her towards the Godswood.

She found her oldest son at the foot of the heart tree deep in thought.

"Worshiping the old Gods? Your Aunt Sansa will be proud."

"Lyanna's influence I guess." Her son shrugged as his mother settled down beside him.

"Still no questions?"

"Not really." He hummed. "I think the shocks worn off."

"Has it?"

"No." He huffed. "I keep wanting to say a part of me knew, but that's not true. No part of me knew." He leaned his head onto her shoulder and she cupped his cheek with her hand. "Tell me the story."

"Are you sure?"

"Father did better than he thought, but he could barely keep his words from tripping over each other." Her son sighed deeply. "It was torture for him. You're better with the stories anyhow."

"You all love your father's stories." She raised an eyebrow.

"It's the voices. He does the voices."

"I may need to refrain from doing the voices Tyrick." She told him evenly, he snickered.

"Before you were born, when we were still in Winterfell, your father and I petitioned your aunt and uncle to make an appeal for your life to be spared. We asked that we be given a chance to keep Cersei alive until you were born, or to rescue you afterward. After much reflection, Sansa took that appeal to her brother, the future King. She reminded him that she and the Dragon Queen had much in common with your predicament, we weren't sure it had worked. Sansa was unsure it had worked.

"You know that your father left for King's Landing before I did. When he arrived, Tyrion told him that Danaerys wouldn't wait. Not after Cersei had taken another Dragon from her. Your father thought that he could get close to her and convince her, but uncle Tyrion had confided in Arya that he didn't know if his brother was strong enough to do what needed to be done. He loved her, Ty. You have to know that you were born of love." She looked at her son now, her eyes pinched. The young man nodded back at her and she leaned back against the tree. "Arya had snuck into the kitchens and managed to have Cersei given Moon Tea. It's known to encourage labor to start, and to make it go more quickly. Although it didn't seem to encourage either of those things for your brothers." She added bitterly. "But Cersei was better with the womanly parts then me and you were soon on your way, as planned. She'd planned to disguise herself as a midwife and kill the queen on her birthing bed the second you were clear of her, but that plan changed when they realized they needed Euron Greyjoy to solidify the iron fleet, but that's another story.

Your father rescued you the next day and brought you to me in the Dragon Crypt. King Jon protected you from the Dragon Queen when she saw you as nothing more than a threat to her reign. He saw you for what you were, an innocent babe who had done nothing to deserve wrath, just as she and he had done nothing to deserve theirs. He killed her, right there, as you screamed in my arms as she threatened to make us all burn by dragon fire. Yara gave us safe passage and I took you to Tarth, and you kept me from jumping from the highest heights as I mourned your father."

Ty blinked up at her in surprise, but she only smiled sadly.

"Dragons and Lions and Wolves and Krakens all schemed and plotted and worked together to protect you; to give you your best chance." She gave him a serious look. "Do you want to know about her? Cersei?"

"I know. She was power hungry, mad and spiteful. She was the downfall of my siblings."

"She was." Brienne took a deep breath. " She was also very beautiful. She had long golden hair like Lyanna, and sharp green eyes that wrinkled in the corners like your fathers, yours, Rickon's and Ren's." Brienne smiled. "She was clever, dangerously so, and witty, like your father. She loved your siblings, and the choices she made were ones she thought would protect them, she just miscalculated. She would have loved you the best she knew how to love."

"Not very well."

"Someday I hope your father will have healed enough to tell you that's not the truth. That there were moments when she loved well." She swallowed. "I know their must have been, because your father has loved me well Ty."

She looks up then, and sees her husband's body leaning against a nearby tree. She gives him a soft smile over their son's shoulder and he wipes at his damp face with the sleeve of his lame arm.

"Your grandfather Tywin was heartsick when your grandmother passed. I don't judge him for that son, I was a widow for all of 63 days and it was nearly more than I could bare. Tywin's grief and anger made him cold and calculating. He made them believe that they were limited in the roles he'd cast for them. Maybe if Cersei had been left to choose a path she'd have chosen differently, maybe not, but it's sad we'll never know. It's all in the past." She pulled back and wrapped her son's face between her hands.

"But you my Bright Star. " She smiled at him. "You are the future, and the sacrifices made to insure that you are here with us unite us all. The secret of who you are, a secret of the likes that tore this kingdom unsounder is one of the things that unite us now. And you shall become whoever you wish to become, and if when the time comes that's still the Evenstar then Tarth will welcome you. It's yours. It's always been yours."

"Da said the same thing. Those same words."

"Those words are a promise, a vow even." She kissed his face. "Especially from your father. Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"You'll tell us if your not?"

"Yes Mum."

"You should go and find Amena. She looks as if she's worried herself silly today."

His face changed when she said this and she couldn't help but smile at the sparks of Jaime she could see in him at the mention of the girl. He stood and helped pull her up, turning to see his father for the first time.

Jaime flinched in surprise when Ty hugged him tightly, before brushing the tears off his own face with his own sleeve and wandering off.

Brienne exchanged a long look with her husband before slipping her hands to his face, followed quickly by her lips.

"I don't know why the fates allow me to have you." He whispered brokenly in her ear. "But I'm yours. I've always been yours."

…

"I thought he'd see me differently." Brienne whispered into the the darkness of their bedchamber. Jaime blinked up a the ceiling. "Not as his mother." He shifted on to his side and studied her face where it pressed against the pillow, her arms hugging it to her body. He reached forward and ran his stumped limb her back, offering her nothing but his soft eyes in response." I've always felt that if he knew, he'd think less of me."

"Oh My Darling. If he was going to think less of anyone it would surely be me." He sighed, his other arm coming up and brushing the hair away from her face. "We should have talked about this."

"We're talking about it now." She breathed.

"I honestly didn't think we'd ever have to tell him. I thought it would be like it was with Mrycella. That he'd just know some how. That it wouldn't be anything."

"He had no idea, Jaime. He-." Her voice rose quickly before her words dropped away. "He trusted us."

"He still does." He soothed, moving closer to her. "You saw him today, he still does. He understood the reasons."

"I hope so." She breathed.

"And you gave him something I couldn't." He reminded her. "Kind words about the woman who bore him. Soft parts of her that I can no longer find. You did that for him, because you are his mother. As much today as you were yesterday, as much as you have been since the day he was born."

"You gifted him to me." She reminded him, rolling onto her side and kissing his lips sweetly. "Everything I love, you gifted to me."

…..

"Lord Lannister." Ty straightened his back and turned slowly at the sound of his King's greeting.

"Your Grace." He said stiffly, bowing just as rod straight as his mother does.

"I was hoping you and I might take a walk."

"As you command, Your Majesty." He glanced up to check the Kings Guard, half expecting to see his mother, but it was Ser Galway instead.

"It was more of a hope and less of a command Lord Lannister." Jon grinned.

"Of course, Sir." He nodded stiffly.

"I'm sorry." Jon looked slowly to the left and then to the right, the boy followed his gaze. "I'm looking for Tyrick Lannister? The little boy who used to call me Uncle King and once took a piss on my shoe while he was learning to use a chamber pot. Have you seen him?"

Ty turned as red as Brienne and it made Jon laugh.

"I'd rather not die of embarrassment right in front of my Liege if you please Uncle Jon." Ty moaned.

"Much better." It irritated him, how the older Jaime Lannister's children got the more formal they became. Suddenly realizing that Jon was only truly uncle (well, almost truly) to their Winterfell cousins and not them, even though they had been the ones to grow up beneath his feet for the last decade plus. "Arya mentioned that she made a mistake yesterday." Ty looked away. "I just thought.." He took a deep breath. "I just thought that maybe you'd like to hear the opinion of someone who'd had a similar even take place."

"Hardly the same." Ty muttered as Jon came to stop at a bench in the walkway.

"More than a little similar." Jon tilted his head to one side.

"You were legitimate." Ty pointed out.

"Grew up a bastard." Jon shrugged. "And you are legitimate. I did it myself with my kingly powers."

Ty smirked at him, his eyes rolling slightly.

"You weren't.. Your parents weren't.. Siblings." He murmured.

"My grandparents were." He countered. "And Dan-." He stopped swallowing quickly. "The Dragon Queen was my aunt."

"They say that makes people mentally weak." Ty whispered. "When children are born of family members."

"I met both your brothers and your sister. I would only describe one of them as mentally weak." Jon whispered.

"Tommen took his life." Ty snorted.

"He was all but a prisoner. He freed himself the only way he felt he could. He was a sweet child. Good hearted." Jon told the boy quickly, he'd spent a fair amount of time thinking about Tommen Baratheon in his early years as King. He wasn't sure why, and he didn't like to dwell on that for long. "Myrcella was beautiful and kind and smart. She had your father's quick wit."

"So perhaps it's fifty-fifty? Is that what you're telling me? My sweet sister, me and Rhaegar Targaryn are the good ones? Maybe I won't go mad and ruin a city?"

"Cersei Lannister wasn't sired by siblings."

"Cousins." Ty countered.

"I guess you're right. You're doomed. I slayed the Dragon Queen for no reason." He sighed mournfully and Ty snorted again. Jon ruffled his hair before his face went serious again. "I was angry at my father."

"Which one?"

"Both." He huffed out a laugh. "But I meant Ned Stark. He'll always be my father."

Ty swallowed and Jon continued. "He saved me. Protected me. Raised me. Loved me."

"Do you think if Catelyn Stark had known that she wasn't betrayed, that she would have loved you?" Ty asked boldly. "My mother speaks of her as if she hung the moon… but yet.."

"She tried to love me." Jon whispered. "But she couldn't. She didn't have your mother's heart. She and my father weren't a love match at first, their marriage built on honor and convenience and I was.. Inconvenient."

"From what I understand, I made for complicated war strategy." The teen japed.

"As did I." Jon snickered. "That's why I'm talking to you. I understand in a way most won't. My secret birth started a war that your secret birth ended. You're very important to all of us that waited for an end to Winter. And if you ever need to talk to someone who understands? I'm here."

Ty looked at the man who'd slayed a queen for him, his dark broody eyes studying him in earnest. He nodded once, and returned his gaze to his hands.

"Thank you."

"Anytime." The King shrugged. "You and I should stick together, I think."


	28. Chapter 28

**Three times Brienne thought she was about to die, and the one time she had no idea.**

* * *

**One month into King Jon's Reign**

Whitestar tower is the highest point of Evenfall. She remembers reciting this to her horrible Septa mechanically, like a forced prayer, as she gave her best pitch for Tarth. It overlooks the rocky East Shore.

If four year old Brienne had been in lessons with the horrible Septa on the day that Galldon drown, she might have seen the waves capsize her brother's skif from the terrace where she now stood. If you could call it a terrace, just a semicircle about four feet wide, with a guardrail that came up to the crest of her hip. The same exact place on her body that Jaime's hand used to migrate instinctively. She looked back into the room. The basket settled in the middle of the table wiggled slightly and Brienne tore her hands from the railing and made her way back inside. The baby was still asleep, wrapped soundly in his red and gold blanket, little lions and stars embroidered across it. She swallowed hard. She'd left a note in his cradle for Janali, telling her where to find him. She'd made sure that a guard would patrol through this area within the hour.

"I'm so sorry Brightstar." She whispered to the baby, tucking the blanket a little tighter around him. "So sorry."

On his chest she'd left a letter for her father, begging his forgiveness, begging him to send the boy to Tyrion and Sansa. In a letter to Tyrion she wrote simply.

Raise him as Jaime would have. Make sure he knew how loved he was. Apologize to him for my being so weak. I couldn't fake it one more day. Not one more day.

She'd crossed Widow's Wail and Oathkeeper over one another beside him on the table, and returned to the balcony.

_Jaime. _She almost thought she said it outloud for a minute, and maybe the wind had just carried it away. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

She wondered if he'd be angry with her. If he'd be disappointed, she thought of the way he dropped his head when he was disappointed. How his mouth would twist just a little, maybe he'd kick his boot at the dirt. She also knew if anyone would understand it would be Jaime. She remembered telling him once as he tried to die that he had to live to get revendge. Who on earth was left for her to get revenge on? Cersei was dead, the Dragon Queen was dead.

Jaime was dead.

She'd let Jaime die. She hadn't been there. She hadn't protected him.

And for that, King Jon wanted to make her Lord Fucking Commander.

She pressed her hands against the railing for a second, trying to decide how to do it. It didn't really matter, she knew that, but the deep rational side of her brain wanted a plan. Wanted to figure the best way.

_How diligent of you._

"Piss off." She whispered back a the memory, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She turned back and looked at the baby again."Your father was insufferable." The infant's eyes opened, Jaime's eyes. They blinked at her trustingly. "Constant with the japes, always ready with his quips."

Who would tell him about Jaime? Tyrion? Would he be able to remember the way his eyes crinkled around the edges when he was trying not to laugh at her? Would he remember to tell him about their grandfather's lions in their cages under Casterly Rock?

She pulled out a pen and started tried to remember every story Jaime Lannister had ever told her, and some she'd learned from others. She didn't look up until the door swung open with more than a little ferocity and Janali's worried eyes met hers.

"My Lady-." Her eyes darted from the baby, to the open balcony doors, to Brienne. The blonde swallowed hard, pressing her lips together tightly.

Brienne pushed an unruly lock off of her forehead and looked down at the papers, her lips parted softly.

"Janali, have I ever told you how I met Jaime Lannister?" The other woman shook her head slowly, Brienne absently pointed her head toward the other chair at the table.

"Is it a romantic story?" The brunette asked carefully.

"Absolutely." She told the other woman blankly.

* * *

**Two Years into King Jon's Reign.**

Brienne's throat is raw, the groan that rips from it felt like broken shards of glass. She presses her teeth together as tightly as she can until her jaw spasms and she pulls it back open with a yelp. Jaime's hand cards through her sweat soaked hair in even soothing strokes and she clutches at his shirt and mewls at him.

His eyes settle into hers and she can see her fear in his face. He runs his teeth over his top lip and looks at Gilly. She can't hear what they're saying anymore, but she can tell by Jaime's wince it's not reassuring.

He drops his head down to hers and kissed her temple.

"You're so strong." She can feel his breath against her ear as she pants out a few breaths beneath the fog. "You're stronger than me. I know you can do this. I know it's hard and I know it hurts and you're exhausted; but my love, you fought the dead. You beat the Hound in single combat. You staved off a hungry bear with a wooden sword."

Her body twists and clenches and writhes against itself and her fingers clutch at the back of her knees with such ferocity she draws blood. It leaves marks like the bear claws against her collarbone.

"That's it." He tells her steadily, his voice a low growl. "Just like that. Just a little more." She gasps out a whimper as she drops back against him. Her head shaking from left to right against his shoulder, leaving it damp with sweat and tears. "You can. I promise you, you can." He tells her softly, in a calm even voice like she's not about to die. She can feel her body getting heavier, she can feel the light in the room start to fade. "Breathe Darling." He reminds her and she sucks in a ragged gasp before her body pressed forward. "Yes! Just like that! Again! Magnificent… you're magnificent."

She sags back against him and the world swims in and out of focus. They repeat this, what feels like a hundred more times. "You would have beat me on that bridge, my love." He whispers in her ear. She almost responds to him then, her forehead wrinkling at his admission, but the pain takes any response away and she's pushing again, her hand comes loose from her knee and grasps wildly until he finds it with his. "I knew it then. Even then."

The chaos of the room has increased and she presses her exhausted face into Jaime's neck and sobs. It does not occur to her that she is not the only one in the room crying.

"A boy." He says softly. "I told you that you could." His hand breaks away from where he's cradling her face and she whimpers at the loss of contact. He moves behind her, dragging them both up and the next thing she knows she's looking at a tiny pink baby who looks just as stunned as she.

"A boy?" She looks at the little thing in the crook of Jaime's good arm and it's wild eyes focus on hers, they are the same crystal blue.

"Mm.." Jaime hums, tilting him towards her again. "He's got your eyes."

She breathes slowly, her foggy brain starting to clear as she reached up and caressed the baby's cheek with her finger.

"Did you mean it?" She asks him, distractedly blinking at the baby in front of her like she just can't comprehend that it's hers.

"These are undeniably your eyes." Her husband sniffs.

"No.." She exhales softly, glancing at him before her eyes slipped back to the babe. "He's alright?"

"He's perfect." Jaime breathed kissing her forehead again.

"No.. about beating you." She can feel the side of her mouth quirk outward and it's almost like she's reentering her body; her sore, tired, sweaty body. She can feel his eyes on her, and in her peripheral vision his mouth slips into a wry grin.

"I have no idea what your talking about, My Darling." He sighs. "You're obviously delirious from the pain and exertion."

"Obviously." She hums back at him.

"Look at him." Jaime says softly. "He's perfect."

"He is." She agrees. "It's a good thing too, because I'm never doing that again."

"You'll change your mind." He sighs.

"I won't."

"You will." He tells her with a certainty she can't fathom after what they've just been through. "But if you don't, that's alright too."

She nods in his general direction before settling back into his arms as the Maesters and Midwives mill around the room doing what needs to be done. She closes her eyes and he kisses her brow again.

"Sleep." He tells her.

"Jaime?" She murmurs, her fingers still tracing the edges of the little boy's face even as she starts to drift.

"Humm?" He's easing her back against the pillows.

"Thank you." She grabs the sleeve of his right arm as it slides out from behind her head.

"For what?" She forces her eyes open and looks at him.

"Keeping me here." She tells him seriously and he furrows his brow before smiling at her in confusion.

"Sleep, Love."

* * *

**11 years into King Jon's Reign.**

**(Essos.)**

Jaime whimpers in his sleep from his spot next to her and Brienne raises her hand shakily to stroke his face.

"He'll need you." She tells the other woman in the room in a raspy whisper. "Tell me you'll stay with him? You and Tyrion. Please."

"It won't do any good." She tells her honestly, her foot tapping on the leg of the desk she's perched on top of.

"It will." She swallows and looks at the younger girl sternly, her red watery eyes narrowing.

"It won't." She blinked. "He'll roll over and die if you do."

"He won't do that to our boys." She hisses. "He won't."

Arya continues to stare at her, her face passive.

"Tyrion will take him to Winterfell, you'll need to go. He'll need you both."

"You really have given up." Arya sneered at her.

"I'm dying. Not talking about it doesn't make it not true." Brienne returns her gaze to her husband as he shutters. "Preparations have to be made."

"How very _diligent_ of you." Arya whispers, turning her head away to study the flap of the tent.

Brienne's eyes slip back up to her with a start.

"You sound like Jaime."

"Disappointed?" She asks, her head tilting back towards her.

"Do you think I want this?" Brienne winces.

"All I know is if I had children, a husband, a family hanging in the balance, I sure as hell wouldn't just give up and die."

Her voice is the same as it always is, but for a second Brienne sees the wide eyed girl she once was behind the assassins mask. The girl who lost the family that she loved. She watches the memory of that bob up and down in Arya's throat.

"I'm trying." She pleads at her, her shoulders sagging.

"Are you? I can't tell with all this talk of death and dying."

"What would you have me do?" Brienne pulled in a ragged breath. "As I lie here staring death in the face."

The young woman's face snaps back to Brienne's and she narrows her wide eyes at her, leaning forward with almost deadly glee.

"Tell it, not today." Arya she whispers sharply.

Brienne finds herself nodding, despite the fact that the whole idea that this is within her control is a falsehood. The Stranger will either take her or he won't, but something in the way Arya is looking at her makes her believe for just a second that she has a choice.

She holds the girls eyes, wrapping her fingers tightly in Jaime's and she breathes the way Sam Tarly instructed her._ In-two-three-four. Out-two-three-four._ And she repeats that, over and over until she can't keep her eyes open anymore.

* * *

**Twenty Years into the Reign of King Jon**

**Part one (Brienne)**

It was entirely stupid and if she had been paying any mind, she would not have ended up in this mess. They'd been on a fact finding endeavor. A boring, fact finding endeavor regarding bandits. Common fucking bandits.

Brienne of Tarth had fought Clegans, Undead, Whitewalkers and a fucking bear, but some common woodland bandits with a well placed spear? That is almost beneath her.

That's what Brienne is thinking as she's thrown from her horse and lays staring at the sky, her vision blurring. Pod is on her in a second, armor is being peeled away and he's shouting at people just out of her vision.

"Holy Fuck." She hears Ser Addam hiss over Podrick's shoulder. "Don't pull it out."

"Don't pull it out?" Pod scoffs, reaching to a spot just over her head..

"No. Don't fucking pull it out." Jaime's childhood friend growls at him angrily, yanking him back just a little. Brienne wants to say something biting, but she can't seem to draw in enough air to say anything at all. The Commander of the City Watch slides out of her view and returns with a bag and starts shoving strips of torn cloth at her.

"We can't just leave it in there. Can we?" Pod asks absently.

"It will help with the bleeding. Hold her still." She feels white hot fire down her side, feels Pods knee press against her other shoulder holding her down to the ground.

"Hold Still Ser." He tells her tersely. "Hold very still."

Addam is shouting orders at her men as well as his own. She almost tells him to stand down, but she can barely see him now. Large spots invade her field of vision and Pod is now gently holding her hand.

"It's going to be alright." He says softly. Addam presses harder and it makes her gag. More white bolts of pain as Addam curses again and they roll her onto her side and she vomits onto the ground.

"We have to get her out of here." Podrick tells Marbrand urgently.

"We shouldn't move her." Addam growls. "Until the bleeding's controlled."

Bleeding. She thinks absently. She is bleeding. She abruptly turns her head back towards where Addam hovers and she can see the puddle of red dirt at his feet. A field of red spray across his leather boots and the greave of his armor. Her blood.

"How the fuck are we supposed to get this controlled?" Pod hisses back at him.

"Pod." She breathes. "Language."

"Sorry M'Lady." He says without thinking and Marbrand snorts.

"We can't carry her." Addam shakes his head. "Not without making it worse."

"She's going to bleed out." Pod says with a shake of his head. "If we just sit here."

Addam looks over it again, wincing.

"We bind it. The best we can. Pack it tight and make a litter. We can carry her back to Lions Gate. We'll send my fastest rider ahead for the Maester."

Pod looks stricken.

"It's her best chance." Addam shakes his head.

In that moment it occurs to Brienne that they think she is going to die.

_Jaime._ She thinks suddenly. How stupid that she's going to die now, so far away from Jaime. How stupid she's spent so much time away from Jaime in general. She hadn't seen him in months. _She'd wasted months._

The night before he had taken Cat to Tarth to be with Ren and Ty he'd practically begged her to come with him. The soft passive hints he'd been giving her for months, years actually, had turned into a a quiet plea.

"_I'm getting old Brienne_." He'd sighed into the darkness between them in their bed as he stroked the side of her face. "_Too old to be days rides apart. Too old to sleep more nights away from you than with you._" He'd confessed that he'd picked Tarth over Casterly in hopes that it would temp her away from King's Landing. It was closer to Tomsyl at the Citadel and Lyanna at Storms End. He thought he could tempt her away from the King's Guard with their family, her home.

"_You're sixty three."_ She'd moaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. _"I think you may have a few years in you yet, Love."_

He'd smiled at her gently, the light from the window catching how it hadn't reached his eyes.

_"I made a vow."_ She'd told him, as if it was obvious.

_"So many vows._" He'd told her sadly, pulling her closer to him and pressing his lips to her forehead.

How had she put this vow so far a head of the others? Was it more sacred then the one she'd made her husband? The man who saved her virtue when she was still a stranger? Who saved her from a bear? Who'd come North to fight the dead beside her? Who made her a mother? Who had loved her so soundly, in spite of herself? Was it stronger than the vow she'd made to her children after she'd struggled to push them from the depths of her body? The vow she'd made to Sansa, or to Catelyn, or to Renly before them?

Surely she would never choose a vow of duty over vows of love?_ Over Jaime_. How had she not seen it when she can see it so clearly now as her mind swings in and out of consciousness? How Jaime Lannister had spent his entire life wanting to be chosen and Brienne had kept him just as much second place as Cersei had?

They roll her onto a litter and just as they go to raise her she grasps at the edges of Podrick's White Cloak and she whispers desperately..

"Podrick tell, Jaime.." She presses her lips together. "Tell him, I'm so sorry."

"You'll tell him yourself, My Lad-."

"Tell him I never meant to put him second. I've never loved him less. I never meant to-."

"He knows that." Her former squire smiled down at her a man grown; married, a father, whose son was now a squire himself. "He knows."

"Remind him." She whispers breathlessly. "Tell him, I didn't realize.."

Her voice trails off and her world went black.

…..

The pain returns and she figures that means she's still alive. She tries to move without moaning, but it's not possible and she hears chair legs scrape and footsteps grow close as she tries to force her eyelids apart.

"Careful now." Comes the soft familiar scold. "You're hurt."

"Jaime.." Her voice sounds thick and far away.

"Brienne." He sighs adjusting the pillows and pressing a wet cloth to her lips.

"How are you here?" She tries to calculate the number of days lost that his being here equates to.

"I was here before you, actually." He tells her, his lips touching at her temple. "Your son dropped me off, on his way to take my daughter to Dorne."

She winces and coos at his mention of Dorne and daughters; because even half awake and in pain, she knows that haunts him and she can see the way he smiles at her lovingly for it.

"Ren is hardly ever my son." She sighs. "You tend to keep him."

"Yes well. I suppose he can be mine again, since his stubbornness forced me to be here with you now instead of across the water; frantic at the reception of a raven saying you've been grievously wounded."

"Grievously?"

"It's quiet bad, Love." He tells her softly, brushing back strands of hair that had come loose from the braid it had been in. "Tell me something?" He lifted an eye brow at her and she blinked. "I remember my King's Guard Armor coming with somewhat bulbous pauldrons that would, lets say keep one from being skewered through the shoulder by a spear. Was that lost in some aesthetic redesign?"

"Don't mock me Ser, I'm injured." She sighed. "Grievously, apparently."

"If Addam hadn't been there you'd have died." He told her honestly, his eyes soft. "Pod would have pulled the spear out, and you would have bled to death on the Goldroad." She bit her lip and he continued brushing at her hair. "There is damage, to the muscle and the bone. Your hand is blessedly pink and warm and you'll move it when forced." He smiled as her her fingers of her left hand spread carefully before she hissed and let it go slack again. "But you'll loose range of motion." She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, glancing away from him to think about what that would be like."It's your left arm Brienne. It's going to be fine. You'll be back in your White Cloak before you know it. This time I do hope you'd wear the paludronds."

He smiles at her so resolutely, so sadly, with certainty that her fears are of not being able to fulfill her job duties. As if this, like so many other near misses and life hurtles that lay behind them, is just another thing to be cast into the pile as she returned to the White Sword Tower.

She wonders briefly how Jaime can forgive her for leaving him to deal with that pile.

"You know what I thought of?" She asks him quietly, her right arm coming and squeezing his elbow. "While I lay there, bleeding all over the Goldroad?"

"That you should have taken the time to put on the pauldrons." His voice is low as he nods, like this is the clear answer. She winces at him her fingers loosing before climbing down his wrist until his hand is in hers.

"All the time I missed." She swallows. "How many times you've tried to tell me.." Brienne pressed her lip tight between her teeth and he made a soft comforting noise, and she turns her face into his throat. "I want to go home." He freezes for a quick minute before she feels him swallow roughly. "Take me home."

"You very nearly died today." He tells her calmly. "I'm not going to have you making decisions like this now." He ducks his chin and kisses her temple. "But if after you've recovered a little more, if you still want to go to Tarth-."

She pulls back from him shaking her head slowly.

"I said home." She tells him and she can see the longing in his eyes and she wonders how she's ever denied him this. It was the place they'd been the most like a family. The place where they had been the Lannisters. "To the Rock."

"If you still want to go to.." he swallows. "To Casterly.." She watches him nod carefully. "We'll go."

"I won't change my mind." She murmurs as he tucks his body back close to hers, easing beside her on the bed careful to curl around the immobilized hunk of space taken up by her injured shoulder.

"It's alright if you do."

"It's alright if you don't believe me." She tells him sleepily.

"I didn't say that." He presses a kiss to her cheek. "You should rest. Sam will be here soon to poke at you." She hums in irritation.

"Tell me about the lions." She requests with a sigh.

"Ah yes, the lions, Tytos Lannister's lions." He hummed at her. "When we were little, we used to sneak down and toss things into their cages. Our cousins always threatened to toss Tyrion, and he'd hid behind my legs and clutch at my breaches." He snorted with laughter and she smiled, feeling the pull of sleep. He regales her with tales of lion related near death experiences, and when he's sure she's nodded off she hears him whisper. "They were sad beasts really. You shouldn't cage a lion. Or a lioness."

Brienne thinks that she'll have to prove to him that she's ready to for a little less freedom.


	29. Chapter 29

**Twenty Years into King Jon's Reign. (Part two.)**

**_Jamie_**

"Stop." His son puts up his hand and he closed his mouth. "I'm done having this discussion with you. I've already told Catty she can go, you can't untell her."

"Renly the last time I sent a daughter to Dorne she came back in a box."

"Father that was a long time ago!" His boy scoffs, his arms swinging against his sides and his eyes rolling to the ceiling."Different daughter. Different Dorne."

"Forgive me for drawing parallels!" Jaime shouts, running his hand over his face.

"Da." Ren sighs dropping his highborn tongue in away his children tended to do with the ease of a Tarth. "I am, as you know, betrothed to someone from Dorne."

"As was your sister." Jaime points out ruefully. His son tilts his head at him and Jaime watches his own eyes appraise him like his wife did."What exactly will I do here if you take Cat to Dorne? Ty is bothered enough by my presence when I'm busy running after a five year old."

"Is this about Mum?" He asks suddenly. Jaime winces, kicking at the floor with his foot. "If this is about you missing her, there is a very easy solution to that."

"Ren." Jaime huffs. "This is not about-." He stops and swallows hard,

"You could stop being an ass and go back to Kings Landing." Renly raised a careful eyebrow over his handsome face. "We can stop there." He tilts his head as he turns to leave. "On my way to Dorne."

"I'm not going to Kings Landing!" Jaime yells after him. "It's not even on the way to Dorne! Even I know that!"

…..

Four days later, Jaime returns to Kings Landing, after swearing he'd never return for what feels like the millionth time. He's barley made it into the keep, his daughter asleep in his arms the former Master of War makes his way towards the White Sword Tower. He snips at Ren, who is stopping to chat with everyone along the way, when his eyes fall on a commotion around the Maester's Chambers. It's not until he catches sight of Arya Stark rushing towards them that he feels the cold dread well up in his chest.

"Take your sister to your mother's rooms and wait for me there." He turns to Renley. The young adult from a few days ago is gone and he looks barely his 15 years now.

"What's wrong?" He asks, as Jaime transfers Cat to his chest.

"Go." He yelps at him before jogging towards the growing crowd.

"What are you doing here?" Arya looks up at him, her face grave.

"Later. What's happened?"

"A survey team was ambushed on the Gold Road." She looks him dead in the face and he knows. He knows what comes next.

"Is she alive?" He hears himself ask, his voice gravely and unwilling to accept the wrong answer. Arya looks to the Gold Cloak, still sweaty and huffing.

"She was when I left to fetch a Maester Ser." The man wheezed.

"Sam set off." Arya tells him and he lurches towards the direction she's nodded. "Jaime." She grabs his arm. " Podrick and Marbrand are with her, you should wait."

"What aren't you telling me?" He looks at the Gold Cloak. "Where was she injured?"

"Left Shoulder." He tells him. "Speared straight through."

"The arm." Jaime realizes suddenly his ghost fist clenching in his mind.

"There was a lot of blood, Ser." He tells him, and he can still feel Arya's hand on his arm attempting to steady him.

"Was she conscious?"He rasps."

"For a time, Ser."

"Jaime." Arya repeats coaxingly, pulling at his arm. "Come and wait"

….

"I sent Gilly to get Jon from the training yard. I didn't want him to see anything. He's with Ren now. She told them Brienne was hurt and you'd come for them later with an update."

He'd forgotten about Jon. For a second he winces at the thought of his nine year old seeing his mother carted across the Keep on a litter.

"I've never not been with her." He murmurs into his hand, his elbows digging into his knees. "When she's been hurt, or hurting." He grunts, slapping his thighs. "I should have at least gone to the gate."

"You'll be here." She tells him. "Right when she needs you."

"By accident." He moans. "I'm supposed to be on Tarth."

"Well you're not, you're here." Arya says quickly. "And if you have a brain, which remains to be determined you will stay here, in this Gods forsaken city until your wife has run out her time as Lord Commander."

"Despite any attempts to be persuaded other wise my wife serves for life." He swallows. "And in that vein, I hope she doesn't run out her time anytime soon."

"She'll be fine. She's Brienne." The Hand of the King looks at him before glancing towards the door.

"She's not invincible." Jaime growls."Just damn stubborn."'

The door flies open and chaos reigns.

"Seven be damned." Jaime winces when he sees her, pale and lifeless, her left arm dangling unnaturally off the litter. The spear itself had been cut down, but its still sticking out ½ a meter from her body.

"Why don't we wait-." Arya reach's for his arm again, but he shrugs her off.

"I'm not leaving." He snaps.

…..

"But I want YOU to come to Dorne too!" Jaime watches the golden curls bounce of his daughters shoulders as she grips at his arms accusingly. "I don't want to go with just Renly!"

"I have to stay here with your mummy until she's better." Jaime repeated patiently. "Not one week ago you were begging Ren to take you to Dorne."

"Sariella will be there." Jon reminds her. "And then we'll all meet up at home for the wedding."

"Your uncle Tyrion will be there then, with all your cousins." Jaime tells her softly.

"And Mummy?" Cat turns her head looking over her fathers shoulder.

"Come here." Brienne beckons to her with her right hand and Jaime deposits her on the bed. "What did Mummy say to you? About after Dorne."

"That we are going home." She whispers.

"Yes. Ren will bring you home. Your brothers will all be at the Rock for the wedding, then you, Ren, Jon, Father and Mummy will live there from now on."

Jaime cringes internally, trying to keep his face passive and pleasant. He still can't quite believe her. He wants to, but something inside him burns with doubt. The wisdom of experience, he tells himself.

"It's time." Tomsyl says softly. "We need to get you two going." He leans over and kisses his mother's cheek as he lifts his sister into his arms. "I'll leave straight away to go back."

"Okay." She smiles, grasping Catty's leg. "Be good for Ren."

"I will Mummy." She murmurs as Tom handed her back to Jaime. Ren let Jon out of his embrace and kissed his mother.

"See you at home." He whispers, his eyes holding hers for a few more minutes than usual. "I'll keep after Cat."

"You always do." She grins.

"Jon keep your Mum company while I walk your siblings down." Jaime tells his youngest son.

"Darling, I'm fine. Take some time. I won't disappear."

"Sick of me already?" He give her a weak smile.

"Walk me back Da, I'm sure Ser Addam's men can spare you a horse for the ride back." Tomsyl asks softly.

Jaime nods at his son, squeezing Cat a little closer to his chest.

….

Brienne and Arya stop talking the moment he walks through the door and it makes his heart drop.

"You see the kids off?" Brienne asks softly and he nods, sitting on the edge of the table. "I sent John back to his lessons."

Jaime nods again, before dropping his eyes to the floor.

"I'll take that as my cue." Arya looks between them before standing up and making her way to the door.

"Cat's going to be fine." Brienne promises. "Ren would never let anything happen to her."

"I know." He whispers.

"Talk to me." She swallows hard. "Jaime, you can talk to me, I'm fine."

"I'm not fine." He looks up at her. "I'm a lonely old man with independent children rattling around in an old castle missing my wife." Her lips press into a tight smile and she pats the spot beside where she sits on the bed. "I've become your father."

"I'm not dead."

"No." He sighs roughly. "You're not."

"Try not to sound so disappointed." She chuckles.

"Stop it." He dismisses. "I've missed you."

"So you came to King's Landing. The place you've time and time again sworn to me that you will never return to?" She picks up his hand in hers, carefully tracing his knuckles.

"I always do though, don't I?" He sniffs. She presses her chin into his shoulder and hums, he feels her cheeks rise against his jaw.

"I'm nearly seventy." He tells her mournfully.

"You're sixty three!" She scoffs.

"I've forgotten my love what comes after the sixties?" He raises an eyebrow at her.

"My father lived to be 96." She reminds him.

"Mine barely saw 65."

"Well with your brother safely ensconced in the North I think your safe." She tells him and he swallows a laugh.

"You could have died a few days ago." He blinks.

"I didn't." She lays her head back against his arm.

"Would you let me mourn our waning days here, Woman?"

"You're being silly." She rolls her eyes at him.

"I'm getting to the good part." He winces at her.

"There is a good part?"

"What I'm saying is that we're too old to be living all over the damn place, so far apart. I always thought there would be time when the kids were older and the vows were fulfilled we could just have some time." He looks down at his shoes and she takes his hand again. "But you love being Lord Commander, Brienne and I won't force you to give it up."

"Jaime-."

"If Kings Landing is where you are then it's where I am too." He turns his face to look at her and for a second he is transported back in time and she is once again the Maid of Tarth, looking at him with such admiration it makes him uneasy.

"I love you." She tells him in her flat tone before pressing her mouth to his. "And what I realized as I lay bleeding on the Gold Road is that in putting my vows and oaths above my own to fulfill my own wants and needs? I'd put yours there as well. And that maybe just maybe you didn't know that you mean more to me." She stops and swallows. "And I thought of all the times you needed me and I wasn't there. All the times I left you saddled with the children, or my father, or Tarth. How you'd all but given up the Westerlands for me. How easily you've made those sacrifices because your whole life has been about sacrifices."

"Stop it." He winces, pushing her hair off her face as she sniffles. "You are everything I need."

"And you haven't had it." She interrupts. "Not all of me, and you deserve all of me."

"And you deserve to be Lord Commander more than anyone I have ever known."

"And I have been." She reminds him. "For twenty years."

"And if you want to be for twenty more I'll be here." He turns his body and grasps her right shoulder in his left hand. "By your side, because despite everything, that is the only place I've belonged since Catlyn Stark left me in your care."

"You belong at Casterly. Watching Jon teach Cat to jump from the highest heights and helping Ren to learn all the names of the Lords and Ladies until he can recite them all with the same ease as you can." She tells him softly. He looks away and she grimaces as she lifted her left arm and turned his face back towards her. "And I belong at your side. Which is why I just recommended to Arya that Podrick take my place, after I tell King Jon I can no longer serve as his Lord Commander."

"Don't do this unless you're sure." Jaime whispers, shaking his head the tiniest bit. "Your shoulder will heal, you'll learn to work around it."

"You're enough." She swallows against the tightness of her throat, seeing the confusion on his face. "You and the children. You've always been enough."

"Brienne." His head shook again. She grasps his chin tightly in her palm, her eyes shining with tears.

"Jaime.." She rasps, swallowing hard. "You're enough."

He realizes now, long after she has, that he's afraid he's not. That she'll regret it. That somehow that would be regretting him. He swallows hard, trying to shake his head yet carefully moves her injured arm to frame his jaw with both hands.

"If I had to go back and choose I'd choose you. A hundred chances and I'd always choose you." She presses her forehead into his. "I'm so sorry. I'm- You are enough."

He makes a fragile sound when he gulps and she presses her eyes as tight as she can and kisses his jaw, his cheek, the edge of his mouth.

"Take me home."


	30. Chapter 30

**Twenty Years into King Jon's Reign **  
**(Part three)**

There were few things that still made Brienne feel insecure. Still as she stood staring at the dress hanging in front of her, she could feel the hot flush make it's way up her neck.

"You don't have to." Jaime told her softly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand settling against the curve of her hip.

"Don't I?" She sighed softly as she turned her head to look at him.

"You could just as easily put on your King's Guard armor and white cloak." He raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled, pivoting the rest of her body towards him, settling her legs between his knees. His green eyes crinkled around the corners as she carded her hands through his long since silvered hair. "Be Lord Commander? Save Lady Lannister for another day."

"I don't know if you recall Lord Lannister, but I am no longer Lord Commander of the Kings Guard." She told him softly, his right eye squinted as he regarded her words. "So Lady Lannister is all I have."

"Do you regret it?" It was his turn to wear the insecurity, she mused, bringing her palms down to his face. She traced the lines around his eyes, slipping down and brushing her fingertips through his neat beard. She shook her head slowly, watching the grin slip across his face until he looked like his younger self. "My nephew, our future King is about to be married." She felt the edges of her lips twitch. "Tyrion has a child old enough to marry. We have children old enough to be married."

"You could easily have a grandchild old enough to marry by now, My Darling." She told him, holding her face still until the look of horror graced his.

"You wound me." He snorted, rising so quickly from the bed she would have stumbled back if his strong arms hadn't circled her waist, crushing her against his broad chest.

"I'm serious!" She yelped.

"You cruel woman." He murmured into the crook of her neck as he pressed his lips to the long faded scars there.

"I am just stating a mathematical fact." She told him, her voice blank despite how her hands reached for his jaw, lifting his face until it was even with hers.

"Humm." He grumbled, leaning in just a little as her mouth met his. "It's a mathematical fact that I'm old."

"Very old." She murmured against his lips. "But your still very strong."

"I am?" He asked her, his eyes twinkling. She nodded.

"And Handsome."

"You still think I'm handsome?"

"It's a fact, Ser Jaime. It's not something I've decided." She raised a stern eyebrow at him.

"Of course Ser Brienne." He gave her an exaggerated nod. "I did not mean to imply you found me suitable in anyway." She tried to hide her grin, against the side of his cheek, but he could feel it. "My apologizes." She pulled back her eyebrows still arched, her face droll.

"I understand that your Lady Wife finds you quite handsome." She told him.

"She does, does she?" He gave her a skeptical look.

"That's what I understand." She softened her face as she regarded him.

"I wouldn't mind seeing her in that." He looked back over her shoulder at the gown. She raised an eyebrow at him, turning slowly to follow his gaze. "With her hair unpinned, down about her shoulders?"

"You wouldn't?" The doubt was back in her voice and he re-wrapped her tighter, pushing himself up on the balls of his feet to press his lips against her hairline.

"I wouldn't." His voice was light and she could feel his eyebrows rise as he pressed his forehead against hers. "With the lions and the Lannister gold and red, she'd be telling the Westerlands she's proud to be the Lady of the Rock." He pressed his forehead against hers.

"She is proud." Brienne whispered softly.

"Is she now?" He tires to sound cheeky, but Brienne pushed back from him enough to see his face. She winces at the edge of creeping doubt.

"Jaime, I am proud." She sighs. "I've always been." She glances back at the dress. "Even when at times I've felt unworthy."

"Brienne.."

"Don't-." She runs her fingers up his neck and across to his lips. "I haven't been here for the West, not with any sort of regularity. Seems a common theme of mine, neglecting one set of duties for another." He watched a small smile grace her face as she wrinkled her brow. "So many vows."

"I tried to tell you." He blinked at her.

"Mummy!" Came a squeal from the hallway as Catty's tiny body flung through the door. "Ty's boat is here! Tom said he could see it from the veranda!"

"They made good time." Jaime whispered to her softly.

"I want to go to Lannisport, Father! Ren said only the boys were going but Lyanna is going! I want to go!" She stomped her foot on the floor."It's not fair that just the boys should go."

"Clearly if Lyanna is going it's not just the boys." Brienne said softly. "But you can watch from the veranda with the rest of us."

Catlyn pouted dramatically as Jaime lifted her up off the floor.

"We'll be able to see the bannermen as they come up the Ocean Road." He whispered to her. "You'll be able to see the Tarth like at Evenfall."

Moments later, Brienne sat with Catty on her lap, looking out into the distance as her house sigel climbed the hills towards Casterly. After a while, she could make out the image of her oldest child, The Evenstar, atop his white horse, his Lady at his side as they moved towards the gate of his childhood home. A strange completeness overtook her as her last child returned to the Rock, and suddenly her world felt more right then it had in years. She blinked surprised tears from her eyes as she felt Jaime's fingers tangle with her own.

* * *

Minutes earlier Lyanna had thrown herself unceremoniously into her cousins arms.

"Oh Gods where have you been?! I've missed you!"

"Tarth. About three hours from your home. You should stop by it sometime cuz." He framed her face with his hands and grinned. "If you could tear yourself away from your Lady."

"Your own Lady would gladly you take a trip to Storms End if you so desire!" The sharp voice from over his shoulder made Lyanna give him a shove as Amena was helped down from the ramp.

"Lady Tarth." Lyanna greeted, moving her scabbard aside to curtsy.

"Don't you dare!" The girl squealed, grabbing at the young night and pulling her to her chest. "I have missed you so. Evenfall's so empty with only Ty to keep my counsel."

"Must be rough." Ren snorted, giving his brother a good natured jab. Tyrick looped his elbow around his little brothers neck with a rough yank.

"How was Dorne?" His oldest brother asked. "Has Seralla changed her mind yet and broken your betrothal?"

"Mena!" Ty grinned at the wide smile that came to his brides face.

"Ced?" The Lady of Tarth yelped, moving further towards the group as her younger brother emerged from the crowd. She tossed her arms around him "Ced! Gods Ty look at him he's grown two feet since we've seen him last."

"Lord Evenstar." Ty turned quickly towards the sharp voice from above, his mouth screwing to the side.

"Your Grace." The older man teased, dropping into a low bow.

Rickon Lannister did in fact look all the King he would one day become, atop his horse, back rod straight, green Lannister eyes narrowing at his cousin.

"Not quite yet My Lord." He snorted, raising one eyebrow. Ty straightened wrapped his arm around the other, patting the horses body with his free hand.

"I've missed you, Rick, you Tiny bastard." He murmured into is cousins fur lined cloak. "Summers on Tarth aren't the same without you."

"Have to string your own kites?" The young man teased into Ty's golden locks. "The horror."

"Father and Mother didn't come down?" Ty asked, peeling away from Rickon to clap Tomsyl on the back and ruffle Jon's locks before taking the reins of the large white horse the boy was bringing him.

"No. They decided to stay back." Tom whispered softly.

"She's alright thou?" Ty asked his brother quietly. "I mean, Da said she was alright."

"She's fine." Tom nodded, his head at his younger brother and Ren stepped into the conversation. "He's asking about Mum."

"Mum's fine." He shrugged. "Still favoring it, but she's back to the yard, she was besting Da and your good father just last evening."

"We should head up." Amena said softly. "I want to see everyone else."

"Fine." Lyanna groaned. "But it's cousins only tonight."

She smiled wickedly and Ty rolled his eyes.

"Lya.." He moaned. "I hope your not trying to rope us all in-."

"It's been ages since all of us have been at the Rock. At least five years!" His cousin yelped. "We're playing."

* * *

"No." Jaime Lannister told his brother soundly. "We're all drunk enough already."

"The children are all playing it in the solar right now." Tyrion insisted.

"Good for them." Jaime quipped back.

"Isn't there anything you want to know?" His brother insisted.

"I know everything there is to know about everyone in this room." He gestured broadly. "Much more than I care to, actually."

"There's nothing new?" Tyrion protested.

"Is there ever?" Jaime snorted drolly.

"Arya's got news." Sansa announced, her voice sing song.

"Sansa." She hissed at her sister.

"What it's not a secret is it?" Gendry asked, raising a quick eyebrow.

"Not you too." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Oh, now you may have my interest, brother." The older Lannister set his gaze on his closest friend.

"I was going to tell you." Arya mumbled.

"How nice! I was on your list, right after everyone else." He snorted.

"Don't pout, it's unbecoming." She corrected, her face blank.

"Well? Are you planning on putting me out of my misery?" He asked expectantly.

"I hadn't planned to do it so publically." She huffed and Jaime narrowed his eyes.

"Oh for Gods sake, you make it sound like your dying." Sansa snorted. "She's stepping down."

Jaime's mouth slipped open for a second before he recovered and took his face back to neutral.

"You're sure?" He said evenly.

"I'm sure." She held Jaime's gaze, and he could see her lower lip tremble just slightly. He suddenly wished she had told him alone.

"Tell him what you plan to do!" Tyrion insisted, his wine sloshing over the rim of his cup and splashing against his doublette. Jaime and Arya ignored him, still lost in there own conversation. "She's going to take her little ship, go exploring for a full turn of the season. Jaime can you imagine?"

Jaime broke his eyes away from his friend and turned them back to his brother with a wane smile.

"I suppose as a younger man I could have." He grinned. "Seems like quite the adventure."

"Ask her who's taking her place." Podrick called out, one eyebrow raised as he drunkenly toyed with pieces of Janali's hair.

Brienne looked from Pod to Tyrion before snorting.

"If someone utters the name Ser Bronn of the Blackwater-." She exclaimed.

"Oh Gods, that's a frightening prospect." Jaime grunted. "Will there even be a kingdom for Rickon to inherit?"

"Bran." Sansa yelped dismissively. "No gods, nothing like that, just Bran."

"Bran?" Jaime's eyes slid to his wife at her unusually high pitched yelp. She looked at him with something akin to panic, it made his heart beat faster. Lannister settled on the arm of the chair she occupied and picked up her hand. He kissed the back before dropping it to his knee. It had been a long time since he'd thought about his past with Brandon Stark. Arya looked back a him with a small smile.

"Bran will be fine." She said softly, looking at Brienne knowingly. "Everything will be fine."

"Let's hope." Jaime grimaced, looking from her to Gendry.

* * *

"You should go talk to her." Brienne murmured against his shoulder.

"I'll talk to her in the morning." He sighed.

"You're not going to sleep."

"If I go talk to Arya, who will hold your hair back when your body inevitably rejects the amount of wine you poured into it?" He pressed his lips into her forehead.

"You should have stopped me." She moaned quietly.

"I tried." He snorted. "More than once. You were freaking out."

"You don't think it's a little alarming?" His wife winced as she lifted her head to look at him.

"Easy." He cooed, pressing his hand against the side of her face and lowering her back down to him. He slid his fingers back and forth against her neck before taking a long slow breath. "I think.." He began softly. "If Bran Stark wanted me to pay my dues for what I did to him, he would have said so long ago."

"Still…" She sighed. "I'd feel better if you added that in when you talk to Arya about her love life."

"It's just not too soon to stop the whole thing. Jon could annul the marriage and _they_ could marry."

"She has had the last two decades to marry him." She hiccuped and Jaime stifled a laugh. "You and I didn't even take two decades to marry, and we drew the whole thing out a bit." He snorted at her.

"The whole plan has always made me uncomfortable." He rubbed at his face before laying his hand over the one she had clutched around his night shirt.

"It's not any worse then the typical arranged political marriage." She argued. "It served both parties. It offered protection to Janye and Lyanna, while leaving Gendry and Arya to be what they have always been."

"Does it though?" He huffed. "If it did would Arya feel the need to go on a sail for a full seasons turn? The same seasons turn that the Stormlords will be anxiously awaiting an announcement of a Barathon heir?"

"I'm not saying it's easy for her." Brienne mumbled, swallowing hard. "I'm saying she made her choice. He waited as long as he could, and then he did what he thought was the right thing."

"And what about Janye? She's forced to lay with him despite not wanting to-."

"Jeanye has known what's expected of her since she was a child. Gendry will be kind, and Lyanna will be with her."

"Yes that makes the whole situation better." He grumbled. "Nothing like trying to produce an heir with a girl you consider your niece in the room. Maybe she'll join."

"Jaime!" Brienne gulped again, with a groan..

"Are you going to be sick?" He asked, moving back to look at her. "Because I'd understand, between the wine and the topic."

"No." He raised an eyebrow. "Well maybe, but that's not what I'm-. Everyone in this situation knew what they were agreeing to. Even Arya. It was her decisions that led them all to this point. She's doing what she feels is best for her."

"Well, as someone who spent twenty years doing what I thought was best while slowly destroying everything around me, including myself, I wish she'd see reason." He admitted softly, Brienne stilled beside him.

"Oh Jaime." She sighed softly, her wine soaked breath brushing across his face. He sighed pressing his lips to her head again. "I wasn't.. connecting.."

"I'm glad you didn't." He told her. "I'm thankful that when someone mentions semi incestuous romantic disasters you don't immediatly think of me."

"Jaime."

"Her and I have had this conversation-." He sighed. "A million times. I have tried to tell her she doesn't have to cling to a decision she made when she was nearly a child." Brienne's hand carded through his beard. "Maybe I'm just putting my old regrets onto her."

"You know her, Jaime." She soothed, she knew it had to do somewhat with Myrcella. She had been around the same age, the same type of defiant, even if it had been expressed differently. "Sometimes better than Sansa, I think."

"We're similar." He sighed. "Sadly, I feel maybe in too many ways."

"Talk to her, again tomorrow." She sighed against him. "Try once more."

He nodded.

"You need to sleep." He whispered into the dark. "You'll have another full day as the Lady of the Rock tomorrow."

"Wouldn't be prudent to vomit at the celebration honoring our future king." She mumbled with a yawn."

"Out of all of them Rickon would find it the most amusing. He's so much like Tyrion the little shit." Jaime chuckled.

Brienne made an affirmative noise, already slipping into pulled his head back and looked at her, her face flushed and relaxed with drink.

"I love you." He whispered, watching her lips twitch into a shadow of a smile.


	31. Chapter 31

**Seventeen Years into King Jon's Reign**

When he was young, Jaime Lannister was as clueless as his children. He hadn't had a clue that as his father sat in his office as Hand of the King with the door closed that he could hear him and his siblings plotting on the other side.

It made sense now, why Tywin always seemed to be one step ahead of their schemes.

Jaime had crossed the room a few minutes before, and was standing with his head tilted towards them. A wry grin pressing his lips together to keep from laughing.

"I'm just saying, you're the eldest, you should go first." He heard Tomsly mumble to his brother.

"Lya's not even a year younger than me." His oldest living child murmured like a child of five.

"He's your father!" She hissed back.

"You want him on your side or not?" Her cousin countered.

"I don't really need him on my side." His niece sounded unsure.

"You think you'll get my mother without my father? You're insane." Tyrick hissed.

"He's right. For Mum you must have Da." Renly added helpfully.

"More likely if you want Da you best have Mum." Tomsly corrected.

"How's that different?" Ren asked dismissively.

Jaime took a deep breath and swung the door open.

"You'll find out one day when you have a wife of your own." He told his son. "I have been visited by the strangest feeling that the four of you would like to speak with me. Am I correct?"

"Yes Father." The boy's chorused in their best Heirs of the Rock voices.

"Yes Uncle." Lyanna looked at her shoes, and Jaime opened the door fully and stepped aside to let them in.

"Sit." He pointed to the sette and the scattered chairs and they all numbly took their spots. "Did you decide who was going first? Should I get a dragon for you to flip?"

The older two boys looked helplessly at Lyanna, who huffed. Ren snorted, muttering something that sounded like 'chicken shits.'

"Well you see, Uncle." Lyanna began, folding her hands primly on her lap before rubbing them together. She pressed her lips tightly until the faint Tully characteristics could be seen in her Sansa-like expression. "We've been talking.." She took a deep breath. "That this may be our last summer we spend all together on Tarth." She looked up at him and Jaime felt something pang in his chest. She was right of course, they were practically grown. "And that got us talking and well… "

She looked at Ty who bit his lip before looking restlessly towards his father.

"Oh for Seven's sake!" Renly huffed, tossing his thirteen year old body back against the sette. "They're all unhappy. Unhappy with their station, unhappy with their perspective betrothal, unhappy with all of it."

The other three children in the room all stared at him; mouths agape.

"Seriously Da, they won't shut up about it." Ren kicked out his leg. "They complain and complain but not one of them has taken a minute to tell you! Or Mum. Or Uncle that they're displeased."

Jaime looked at the three of them carefully.

"Why are you here again?" Tom asked his younger brother, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You need me here. If I wasn't here you would have been all sappy and reminiscent about your childhood summers and the next thing you know Aunt Sansa would have planned a damn ball and none of you would have told anyone that the lives you've had paved out for you aren't at all what you want." Ren snorted.

"So." The elder Lannister regarded the others. "Now that Ren has spilled it, do the rest of you have anything to add?"

They all looked at their hands.

"Oh seven hells." Ren murmured . "Stranger take you all."

"Renly, that's enough." Jaime said sharply. "Go down to her solar and fetch your lady mother, I have a feeling I will be needing her guidance."

"Fine." He snorted, swinging himself back to his feet and making his way out the door. "Cowards."

"Now." Jaime sighed. "Until the more level headed adult arrives, i think it's best if I do the talking." He rubbed his left hand over the end of his right arm for a moment. "I think I can speak for your parents Lyanna, when I say we have tried very hard not to be your grandfather. We have always encouraged you all to follow your dreams." He looked at his beautiful niece. "When you abdicated your claim as heir to the North to pursue knighthood, your mother understood did she not?"

"Yes Uncle." Lya whispered.

"If you would like to make changes in that now.." Her face betrayed her with a wince and Jaime sighed. "We want you to be happy. All of you." He looked at Ty. "When you chose Tarth over the Rock we didn't blink. I knew you dreamed of being the Evenstar almost from the moment you could speak. And I think we've been very careful with your betrothals." The door opened and Renly returned with Brienne, she curiously took her spot beside him. "Your mother and I have asked you to make a list. You can take time to get to know those ladies, see who-." He looked at his wife, she took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "Best suits you."

"The problem is there's only one name on the list." Ren snorted.

Ty looked at him sharply before turning to his parents.

Jaime raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"I'm not sure you're going to like it, Father." He told him shakily, Jaime felt Brienne's shoulders sag just a little and a soft sad smile crossed her features. His body burned, he looked from his son to his niece with a frown. _No. No. No. No._

"It's not that!" Renly giggled. "It's not-."

Jaime looked back at him with an almost fearful expression.

"Amena." Renly laughed. "Ty's in love with Amena, he wants to marry Amena"

"Oh Brightstar." Brienne exhaled slowly as Jaime untangled their hands to run his palm across his face.

"Ren!" Ty grunted at his brother's boldness.

"He thought you meant Lyanna. He was afraid you wanted to marry Lyanna!" Renly snorted with uncontrolled laughter as the cousin's grimaced at each other.

"Why-?" Jaime swallowed hard, before clearing his throat of the leftover fear. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"Lots of reasons." Ty told his father softly. "She's baseborn, for one."

"Tarth will not care a white walkers ass-."

"Jaime." Brienne winced. "Amena is of House Payne. She's legitimized-"

"And some in the Stormlands will say by the Bastard King." Lyanna told them boldly.

"No one on Tarth." Jaime challenged sharply. "No one at Storms End, and that is all that matters."

"I've known her since my first day." Ty spoke quickly, looking at his father. "We nursed from the same teat. We've been raised as close as any of us have." He looked at his family. "I thought maybe you might be.. bothered by.. that."

"I'm not." Jaime took a slow deep breath, feeling Brienne's fingers wrap around his once again. "She feels the same? She'll have you and Tarth?"

Jaime lifted his chin when Ty nodded.

"Amena will be as she has always been, a wonderful addition to our family."

"You'll ask Ser Podrick formally as soon as we can arrange an audience." Brienne whispered.

"I wouldn't worry too much Son, House Payne has always been rather loyal to your mother." Jaime smiled. "We'll have the wedding at the end of the summer, before you officially take on your role as the Evenstar, before you all start off."

"You mean it?" He looked between them.

"We do." Brienne told him. "Tarth will love her, as she has always loved Tarth."

Her chin wobbled slightly before giving a nod.

"Now that wasn't so bad was it?" He looked between the remaining children before turning back to Ren with a huff. "Renly, who's next?" Jaime waved his stump in irritation.

His boy leaned over to look at his brother, who huffed in irritation.

"Tom doesn't want the Rock." Ren shrugged.

Jaime sat up stiffly, his head cocking to the left.

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't-. It's not-" Tomsly sputtered before dropping his head into his hands. "I'm sorry father."

Brienne gasped and Jaime's head fell back and he gaped at the ceiling before turning his eyes to his wife.

"Seven hells no one wants the damn thing." He mumbled to Brienne. "Do you hear that?" He muttered to her, squinting as he put his stump to his ear. "That's the sound of my father turning in his grave. I honestly can hear him all the way from Kings Landing."

Breinne sorted.

"Why don't you want the Rock, Sweetling?" She murmured.

"I um.." He took a deep breath. "Da really? Can you say you look at me and see the Lion of the Rock?" He wrinkled his forehead and Jaime's eyebrows rose. "Seriously if Ty was made for Tarth then clearly Ren was born for the Rock!" Jaime smirked as the near perfect replica of himself sat up a little straighter at the mention of his name, his body leaning forward.

Like a true lion about to pounce. Jaime mused.

"I should.. I want-. Oh Gods this is difficult." His voice became muffled as he dropped his face into his hands. Jaime and Brienne both swung their eyes to their third born for help.

"It's not hard.. Just say it." Ren moaned. "I want to be a Maester." He said to his brother slowly. "Just say it."

"A Maester?" Jaime pressed his lips together, his eyebrows lifted at his wife.

"You want to be a Maester?" Brienne tilted her head. "Really?"

"I'd like to forge my chain." The young man murmured into his palms.

"Darling, you will protect me when my father's corpse bursts through the door and tries to cut me down?" He stage whispered to his beloved.

"Jaime." She swatted at him with her free hand.

"I'm not jesting."

"Stop." She squeezed her grip tighter.

"A Maester." Brienne said breathlessly. "That's-."

"Just fine." Jamie finished in a sigh, his thumb grazing Brienne's knuckles as he felt her deflate beside him. "A fine Maester you will be then."

Tom looked up at his father then before slowly turning towards his mother.

She gave him a small nod and he swallowed hard.

Jaime took that moment to turn towards Ren.

"Do you want the West or have you tagged along to inform me you'd like to be a Septon? Should I go and collect your brother from the nursery and start prepping him? Or perhaps one of Lyanna's siblings-? I think Joanna is next in line."

"No." Ren said quickly, a crisp predatory grin moving across his face. "I'll warden the West."

"Careful boy, my heart's still beating." Jaime raised an eyebrow and Ren gaped at him. Brienne chuckled.

"At your side, Father." He grimaced. "At your side."

"Your Grandfather would be pleased with your choice, Son." The choice I would have never made. Jaime thought to himself. He'd often considered Ren as his second chance. That his boy might meet all the expectations Jaime had simply let fall to the waste side. "In fact I think I just heard his bones mutter 'that will do' as they clattered back down to the cement slab."

Ren and Ty both snorted, Brienne shook her head at him before directing her attention to the last Lannister heir in the room. They'd spent hours on Lyanna's future over the years, no one, not even Sansa had been the slightest bit surprised when she'd tearfully begged off becoming the future Queen of the North in favor of her dearest Aunt and Uncle one day bestowing her with knighthood. Jaime was looking forward to that day nearly as much as Lyanna, but not quiet was much as his wife.

"Lya?" Brienne said softly and Jaime peeled his eyes away from her and looked at his niece. Her face was pale, but she pulled her chin up bravely and swallowed hard before her eyes drifted between him and Brienne before wincing and stealing his gaze. She looked like a proper Lady. Like the aunt she'd never met. She looked like a queen. She looked like all the things she had decided not to be. She blinked her green cat eyes at her uncle and he watched the confidence leave her until the gaze was almost pleading.

What she said next made Jaime Lannister see red.


	32. Chapter 32

**Seventeen Years into King Jon's Reign**

**Part two**

Jaime didn't hear the soft warning of his wife, or notice that he had shaken off her hand from his arm as he slowly stood up at Lyanna's confession. His beautiful niece looked at him cautiously. Her chin dropping as her eyes hit her folded palms. For a heartbeat he saw his sister, in another he saw Mycella. He swallowed his eyebrows scrunching together, as he reached out his hand and palmed her cheek, lifting her face back up to him and forcing a tight smile.

"We'll talk more about this later." He whispered softly, pressing his lips to the crown of her head before letting his hand drop. She gave him a soft nod. He turned back and looked at Brienne before she followed him to the door.

"Don't say anything you'll regret." She implored him, as his hand tightened into a fist.

"That's not very much right now." He growled back at her. He looked back into the room where the young woman sat alone. The boys had not balked when he dismissed them the second Lyanna's tongue had loosened. He was glad they'd not witnessed his outburst, the Lion of Lannister had been thoroughly declawed over the decades, but he could still rattle teeth with his roar.

"She's trying to help."

"Herself." Jaime bit. "She's trying to help herself. Not-." He looked back through the door way and his heart panged, Lya had buried her face in her hands and Jaime gulped again, reaching out and touching Brienne's arm. "You'll.." He flung his stump towards her and his wife nodded. "I'll be back."

"Please remember her sister is a Queen and her brother our King and we don't care for Essos." Brienne reminded him. He snorted at her.

"No promises." He called as he stalked down the stairwell and across the Keep.

He found Arya Stark in her office, swinging the door open without knocking.

"Have you gone mad?" He growled, closing the door shut again behind him. She looked up at him. Her eyebrow quirked up at him in surprise.

"Possibly." She drolled. "Why?"

"Our beautiful niece just sat me down and asked me the most interesting question."

"Jaime-." She looked towards the window.

"She wanted our help discussing her future with her parents, again." He leaned forward menacingly. "Strange I know since it seems we just sat down with them and discussed her abcation, her desire to be knight."

"Jaime I-."

"How she'd feared your sister would disown her, when really Sansa had known all along where her heart was." His voice rose and Arya stopped trying to interrupt, her face dropping to the desk before her. "I'd never seen her that happy without a sword in her hand. She was glowing." His face softened at the memory. "So imagine my surprise when today she told me that she wishes to wed Gendry Bartheon."

Arya looked towards the window, her chin jutting out in silent defiance.

"I was shocked. When I asked her why, you will not believe what she told me." He dipped his head so he could look at her face. "She told me that you had come to her with the idea!"

"There are parts of this you don't understand." Arya told him, her voice strong, but Jaime saw how her's eyes betrayed that.

"Oh, I may still be the stupidest Lannister, but we are quite the intelligent bunch." He hissed. "I know she's in love with the Karstark girl and I know you filled her head with how simple this will all be. How it will be the perfect fix for everyone, when really it's just another way for you to get out of marrying the man that you have been loving and fucking for the better part of two decades!"

"That's not-!" She pressed herself up from the chair and met his eyes.

"You are using that child to solve your problems!" He accused. "You want to push off on her the life that you rejected. You want her to sacrifice the goals and dreams that she has had all her life because you are afraid-."

"She wants an opportunity to live her life with the woman she loves!" Arya yelped. "She can do that at Storms End! She can still be knighted She can take Janye as a lady in waiting and they can build a life-!"

"They can build a LIE!" Jaime smacked his palm onto the desk and Arya jumped. "They can build a lie."

"It's the only way." She almost sounded pleading.

"It's not, it's just the way that works out best for you." He told her sharply.

"You don't know-." Arya shook her head.

"Did he tell you he was tired of waiting?" Jaime felt the edges of his lip curl. "That he needed to take a bride? Did the two of you sit together and try to come up with a girl that wouldn't care that he had mistress?"

"I'm no one's mistress Lannister!" Arya snapped.

"Did he tell you the Stormlands are demanding heirs?" She blanched, and he sneered. "They will need heirs. Didn't you think of that when you told your sixteen year old niece to marry your lover?"

He watched her drop back into the chair and examine her desk top. He mirrored her, thudding back into the opposite chair. The two of them sat in silence for a while.

"She told you, about the Karstark girl?" Aray mumbled.

"She told Brienne, but Tyrion had told me he suspected as much right after Catelyn was born." He whispered.

"Sansa knows?" She lifted her eyes up and looked at his face. Jaime nodded. "She should tell Lyanna. That's-. She's afraid-."

"I know." He sighed. "Brienne thinks it's important that Lya tell her."

Arya nodded.

"I didn't think-." She murmured. "About the heirs."

"I think their are lots of pieces of this you didn't think about."

"He didn't give me an ultimatum or anything." She breathed.

"Then why?" He emplored.

"There's talk, in the Stormlands. They've started calling him Renly." She bit her lip. "He says it doesn't bother him but-."

"So.. instead of marrying.."

"I'm not a wife. I'm no one's Lady." She moaned.

"What does that mean to you?" He squinted. "What do you think it keeps you from being?" She shook her head slowly. "You love him. He loves you. Do you think he'll force you to give up your role? Lock you in Storms End and force a child or five on you? Does that sound like him?"

"It's what he needs." She swallowed.

"Doesn't he get to choose that?" Jaime sighed. "I know you think you can't have both, but I think there is proof otherwise."

"Brienne is the exception." She sighed. "And don't act like you haven't made sacrifices."

"Well I haven't been forced to marry her niece." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Does the Lord Paramount of the East know that he's to be betrothed to Lyanna Stark?"

"Lyanna Lannister." Arya reminded him softly, his lips twitched at the sound. When she'd renounced the Northern Crown she'd once again become a Lannister by name. "No. He does not."

"You think he'll accept?"

"I think he'll do what ever I think is best." She sighed.

"I think that means you're already his wife." Jaime smirked.

"Jaime.." She warned.

"Think about this." He whispered. "Please. Just-." He swallowed. "Think about this. Talk to Gendry." She nodded. "Until then, we say nothing about this to our siblings. No sense bringing the wrath of the Prince Consort of the North down on you."

"I think I can take Tyrion." She snorted. Jaime raised and eyebrow and cocked his head to the left.

"You'd be surprised." He teased.

"I doubt it."

"Don't doubt Lyanna, she'd never go against her father's wishes." He reminded her.

"Or her beloved Uncle?" She asked airly.

"Perhaps." He sighed. "I want her to be happy." He leaned in again and met Arya's eyes, boring his into them. "She's like a daughter to me. And I want her to be happy. I know she thinks she knows what she wants, but I have years of experience and mistakes on my side." Arya's chin quivered for a moment at what he wasn't saying before she nodded at him. "I don't want people that I care deeply about to have to go through what I went through."

"I know that." She said softly. "But it's different."

"I hope you're right."

….

**Four Moons Later**

**(Tarth)**

…..

Jaime stood beside Lyanna as they watched her parents ship pull into the bay and the gangplank assemble. Jon stood at her otherside, drawn up formally, and Ty beside him. The monarch's greeted each other formally before Sansa fell easily into her brothers arms, turning to her nephew as she pulled back and straightened her dress.

"Lord Tarth." She smiled, letting his new title, and last name, roll off her tongue.

"Your majesty. Tarth welcomes you." He bowed formally before Sansa giggled and pulled him to her. "It's good to see you too Aunt Sansa."

"Dearest please unhand the Tarth Boy." Tyrion bellowed from behind her as he ushed the rest of the children off the boat. "Your Majesty I do hope you'll forgive my treason but I intend to hug my daughter first." He waved flippantly as Lyanna dropped to her knees and crashed into her father. Jaime swallowed hard as he heard a faint whisper of what ended in Papa drift from the girl's lips. "I missed you too, My Sweet." He pulled back and looked at her, tucking a fallen curl back in place. "We have much to discuss, but first I suppose I should greet the Southern King and the fresh Lordling who's ground I now have the privilege to walk upon." Tyrion winked at her, swatted Jaime in the stomach before bowing before his Good Brother. "Your Majesty."

"Lord Tyrion." Jon smirked back

"Lord Tarth." He raised an eyebrow.

"Welcome back to Tarth, Uncle." Ty smiled.

"I'm sorry we missed your coronation Nephew but we couldn't leave Winterfell Starkless for too Long and we felt your wedding was a bigger milestone then you becoming a Lord of some other Kingdom." He teased.

"Yes Uncle." Ty sniffed. Tyrion leaned back to watch his daughter greet her sisters. "When you're done being mauled My Sweet if you could practice your Knightly duties and help your sisters' latest Lady in Waiting find their room?"

"They've gone through another?" Lyanna snorted.

"Yes. Yes. Little monsters." He waved his hand dismissively, before shooing the twins away and swinging Jeyne's diminutive body towards her Uncle Jaime's waiting arms. "From what I understand this one is tired of them as well, your mother plans to leave her with you."

"Father the last thing I need is a lady in waiting!" She snorted.

"She's a lovely girl Lya. I'm sure you'll find a place for her." Tyrion gestured over her shoulder, his face dismissive until his girl looked up with a huff before her face fell. "Ah yes. There she is. Janye? Come down here please, Dear. You may have met each other at Winterfell, yes?"

"Yes, My Lord." The young woman whispered, her brown hair falling from her face as she looked up from him to Lyanna. "We have."

"Good. Good." He smiled, still trying to sound nonchalant despite the fact that he had taken his little girl's hand in his and was softly stroking his thumb across the back of it. "She's in your care from here on out then."

Lyanna was still frozen, when Janye reached out her hand to her and touched her arm.

"If you wouldn't mind showing me the room my Lady?" She smiled softly, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yes of course." Lyanna shook her head grabbing up one of the bags Janye had discarded. "Right this way, Lady Karstark."

Jaime watched the warrior girl bite her lip as she looked at the other woman before smiling. He turned back to Jeyne in his arms and pressed a kiss to her cheek before clasping Tyiron's shoulder with his hand. The shorter man looked up at his brother, who smiled in return.

…

It was after the wedding that Jaime went to speak with Gendry himself. He found the Lord of Storm's End standing on the balcony outside Evenfall's main hall.

"She'd be pissed as hell if she knew you followed me out here." Gendry warned with a raised eyebrow when he saw him, gesturing to the table.

"She's always pissed as hell." Jaime sighed nodding in silent question at a carafe of wine.

"What?" The younger man asked, his face blank.

"Would you mind, My Lord?"

"This is your home." Gendry snorted

"Ah, no. It's my son's home. Brienne has dropped both the Tarth and the of Evenfall Hall as of last month. Besides, you're his Liege Lord. This is your land, only Jon out ranks you here. Well, maybe Sansa, but by courtesy only. If we were in the West you'd have to to wait for me to offer."

"Well then, pour me a cup Lord Lannister." The man snorted. "You'd think I'd have the rules down by now. Who I bow to, who bows to me."

"Took me my whole damn life to figure it out." Jaime shrugged.

"You didn't come out here to tutor me in the ways of courtly manors." Gendry raised an eyebrow.

"I did not." He sighed, sliding one cup towards him with his false hand and pressing the other to his lips.

"I told her no. About Lyanna." He swallowed. "It's too much, even for me."

"I appreciate that." Jaime blew out a breath.

"I've asked her." Gendry shook his head and took a long drink of wine. "A million times probably. She's found so many different ways to refuse I've lost count." Jaime dropped his eyes. "For a while, I thought it was simply that she didn't want to be a mother. I told her we could leave the Stormlands to Lynara . She just shook her head."

"I have tried. Many a time, for what it's worth."

"It's worth a lot." Gendry sighed. "She-. You're important to her." Jaime looked down at his hands. "If I ever could convince her to join me at the Weirwood I'm fairly certain it would be you and not the King she'd wish to walk her to me."

"I don't think-." Jaime's throat was tight.

"She loves her brother, but that's what he is. A brother."

"I'm hardly-."

"You looked past the assassin and saw the 18 year old girl and you protected her. You gave her counsel. You helped her strive to be better." He shrugged. "Isn't that what father's do?"

"I'm not sure." Jaime whispered. "I had a pretty shitty one."

"I had none at all." Gendry shrugged again. "Your boys, you've done a great job."

"I'd like to think so." Jaime whispered.

"Ty has taken on Tarth. He's taken a bride." Gendry smiled at him. "The wedding was beautiful, by the way, they seem so in love." Amena had looked lovely on Podrick's arm and Ty had choked up at the sight of her. "I think that's success at seventeen."

For a second, Jaime saw a flash of Tommen in his minds eye and he tried not to wince. He tried not to to think of his _children before._ He tried not to remember why he has spent the last seventeen years treating Arya Stark as a daughter. He tried to keep Myrcella's last moments from his minds eye, but instead he imagined her smiling on his arm as he walks her through the Sept to Trystane Martell. It's beautiful and perfect and somehow even worse.

He left Gendry with hardly another word and found himself pulling Catelyn from Joanna's arms (or Lynara's arms, he can't tell in their sleep clothes) and taking her into his chamber. He hekd his toddler against him and tried not to wake her as he sniffed back tears into her soft downy hair.

….

"Lord Gendry."

"Lady Karstark." The older man looked at the girl, her eyes dark as Arya's.

"Please call me, Janye." She said softly.

"Lady Janye." He smiled, pointing to the chair near him. "Please have a seat." She sat demurely, like a woman of her station. The edges of his lips quirked up. "How may I help you?"

"I feel it would be nice if we got to know each other better, My Lord." She blinked at him, her smooth pale skin glistened in the moon light. She looked shockingly like Arya in a way. It was obviously the North in her. The Karstarks were distant cousins of some sort. He narrowed his eyes at her slightly. She did not look like a girl of ten and nine.

"Did Arya send you?" He asked breathlessly. Janye smiled widely and shook her head.

"No. I haven't been sent by your love, or mine." She batted her eyes. "I was horrified really, at the whole idea of things. Lyanna is not meant for the Heart tree, or the birthing bed." Gendry winced at the thought. "She's meant for the sword. To defend and protect."

"And you?" He asked suddenly, understanding where she was leading him.

"My father seeks betrothals as we speak." She blinked. "Lesser men than you, My Lord."

"So you're here to make a match on behalf of your father?"

"I'm here to get to know you better." She told him, raising her chin in defiance. "To see if we are compatible. If you are the kind and humble man Lya claims you to be. To see if you enjoy my dry witt and impeccable table manners." He sniffed a laugh. "Maybe we could take a walk together tomorrow before you depart? I'm remaining in Tarth, Lyanna is staying to get Ty settled. If we enjoy each other's company we could exchange letters, if that would please you."

"This is all-." He hung his head, feeling his adam's apple bob.

"You and I both know the reality of our.." She paused, her brave facade breaking for the first time and she looked at her clasped hands. "-situations, My Lord. We know what's expected of us. Perhaps. If we find each other agreeable, we could be a happy match." He looked back up at her. "My father is no Tyrion Lannister. He will demand a match. He won't be understanding." Gendry winced, looking away in embarrassment. "Nor will your Stormlords if you refuse to marry."

"They'll want heirs." He rasped.

"That prospect doesn't terrify me Lord Gendry." She smiled softly. "Not as much as one might expect."

It terrifies me. Gendry thought wistfully. You have no idea how much.

"A walk." He nodded. "Tomorrow."

"I've never been to Tarth." She said softly.

"I'll do my best to show you the sites." He smiled back at her.

"I'll find you after we break our midday fast." She told him, standing slowly and walking to the door way. "I won't be sharing this with Lyanna." She lifted her head. "Not yet."

"I understand." He nodded, the implication clear in her words. "I'll keep this to myself as well."

It was the first thing Gendry had kept from Arya in over a decade. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would.


End file.
